Accidentally (On Purpose)
by angellwings
Summary: [lyatt] [alternate universe - long distance dating] Wyatt Logan's been divorced three years and can't seem to find his footing in the San Francisco dating scene. Lucy Preston had a falling out with her mother and her fiancé. She ran away to LA and never looked back. What happens when these two meet on vacation? Sparks, of course. But accidentally - on purpose.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Some fics I plan for months. Heck, some one shots I work on for months. But some fics take root one day and then take off running the next. That's this fic. I heard a song, "Accidentally On Purpose" by The Shires, and suddenly I was writing a Lyatt Long Distance Dating AU. Currently I have four chapters and this prologue done. Until I finish I am hoping for one post a week. Once the fic is finished I will post chapters more frequently. But until then...you get one update a week. Starting with the prologue.

Hope you guys like it! I'm 30k words deep into this already so if you don't...too late! ;)

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Accidentally (On Purpose)

By angellwings

* * *

Prologue: Old Love (Or Lack Thereof)

* * *

"Staying home alone on a Friday,

Flat on the floor looking back on old love,

Or lack thereof.

After all the crushes are fading,

And all my wishful thinking was wrong,

I'm jaded,

And I hate it."

"Love Song for No One" by John Mayer

* * *

"Let me ask you something."

The minute those words leave Dave's mouth he's already biting back a groan. He knows what's coming.

"What do you do when you're not here? I mean, don't get me wrong, buddy, I'm glad you enjoy your job. Since you're my boss, it makes my job a lot more pleasant. But is this _all_ you do?"

"What are you talking about?" Wyatt asks with a sigh. "We have poker tonight, don't we?"

Dave quirks a brow at him with a flat stare. "Poker with fellow Mason Industries employees does not count. They would all tell you the same."

This has become a monthly conversation between him and Dave. Sometimes, he pulls in Rufus or Mason as back up. Tonight, he seems to have decided to show a little bit of mercy.

"What exactly do you think I should be doing?" Wyatt replies as he turns his gaze from Dave to focus on his sandwich.

"Maybe not having lunch in your office every day for starters," Dave says with a pointed grin as he unwraps his own sandwich from the other side of Wyatt's desk. "When's the last time you went on a date, my brother?"

Why is everyone so obsessed with getting him to date? Rufus and Jiya asked about this recently too. Hell, even _Jessica_ asked him why it was taking him so long to find another potential Mrs. Logan. _Jessica, _his ex-wife, had asked him that.

"I went on one a couple of weeks ago," he answers with a shrug. "You know, with Sharon from Marketing."

"That was two _months_ ago," Dave corrects him with a chuckle.

His brow furrows, thoughtfully. "No, it wasn't. Couldn't have been." He pauses and glances down at the calendar on his desk. Is it July already? "Could it?"

"It could and it was. You gotta get out of this office, man. Your whole life can't be Head of Security for Mason Industries. I mean, at first, yeah, Mason's procedures were weak, but you've got this place running like a well oiled Machine after four years," Dave says with a shake of his head. "Go on a vacation or something, at least. You're making me look like a slacker."

Wyatt snorts and smirks at him. "You _are_ a slacker, Dave."

"Compared to you, yes, but not on my own merit," he retorts with a grin. "Not that anyone has ever been able to stand up to the great Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan, that is."

Wyatt rolls his eyes. "You have medals too, dude."

"Not as many as you," Dave says with a tired sigh. "Point is, you got it all going for you, man. You make good money, people respect the hell out of you, those freaking baby blues pull the ladies in like a tractor beam, and you're a fucking American Hero. You should have more dates than time on your schedule. But you spend all your time in your office or in your apartment. It's been nearly three years since things were final with Jess. What are you waiting for, Logan?"

What _is _he waiting for? As much as he hates it, it's a valid question. At first, it felt wrong. _Dating._ He hadn't dated since high school. What did dates look like as an adult? It's not like he could take a girl out to the bowling alley in his Charger like he used to do with Jess. Well, he _could_ but odds are he wouldn't get a second date. Besides, why would he want to date when he'd been _married_? Yeah, he and Jess had problems but when it was good, really good, he liked having a committed person to come home to and share his life with.

Now, life wanted him to take a step back from that? Start over from scratch?

It felt, and still feels, like a punishment for failing. And maybe it is. Because it isn't even that he was left heartbroken after the divorce. He wasn't. He and Jess saw that ending coming for years. It's never been about love. It's always been about failure. He failed at being a husband. Is that his one chance at it? Does he deserve another pass? Marriage doesn't seem like something you should get a do over on.

Then there's the matter of _who_. Honestly, he's yet to meet anyone who seems interesting enough to put in the effort. Granted, he hasn't been on that many dates since the divorce. But the ones he's managed to go on, or even the women he managed to flirt with, seemed like the wrong fit. Like Sharon from Marketing.

Perfectly nice, but _boring_. At least to him. Someone out there probably really enjoys wine tastings and searching out food festivals on the weekends or attending the ballet or classical music. Just not him. Plus, she conceded his point on every topic they discussed. Like she only wanted to please him.

What was that about? A lot of his dates were like that. Do people not speak honestly on first dates these days? Are they afraid to argue? He would rather argue _some_ than constantly agree. Honest opinions are interesting, as long as you have the right attitude about it. Maybe that's the trick? Maybe too many people are afraid someone might take a disagreement personally?

Whatever it is, he doesn't like it. Dating brought him nothing but awkward goodbyes outside of front doors and broken promises to call soon. Both of which left him feeling guilty and a bit depressed.

He would just as soon skip it. At least until someone intriguing came along. And he would know, wouldn't he? If someone interested him, wouldn't he be able to see it right away? He had with Jess. Though, maybe using Jess as the measuring stick for his potential dates is a bad idea. It's not like that relationship ended particularly _well._ Although, it's not particularly _bad _either.

It took three years, but he and Jess have managed to form a weird sort of friendship. It surprises other people, but not either of them. They've known each other forever. They grew up together. Failed together. As weird as it seems, it actually isn't weird at all. She's not afraid to tell him when he's being an asshole and she no longer gets furious with him when he calls her out for her manipulative tendencies. They work as friends. They'll never work as more than that.

So, it's not Jess holding him back. It's not the idea of dating. If he's honest, his questions about whether he deserves another shot at a marriage probably play into it at least a little, but mostly…

"I don't know, Bam Bam. I guess I'm waiting on the lightning," he replies after what must have been several minutes of silence.

"Lightning?" Dave asks skeptically. "That's what you're going with?"

He chuckles and shrugs. "That's the truth. Take it or leave it."

"Fine. I guess I get that," Dave concedes. "But I still think you should take a vacation."

Wyatt sighs and chuckles dryly. "I'll think about it."

"I can't be the only one taking time off around here. People are going to start thinking I don't do anything," Dave tells him.

"You know, come to think of it, what exactly _do you do _here?" Wyatt asks with a glib smirk.

"Jackass," he replies through a laugh as he rolls his eyes at him.

* * *

A salad is dropped unceremoniously on top of her keyboard. It effectively keeps Lucy from typing any further. She huffs and glances up to find her sister glaring at her.

"What?" Lucy asks as she relaxes her posture and pulls her hands away from the desk.

"You never called me last night," Amy says as she sits down across from her.

"About?"

"Your date. You know, with the better-than-fiction McDreamy who lives across the hall?" Her sister clarifies with a scoff. "Why? Is there some other rare newsworthy occurrence happening in your life?"

"Apart from my book? The one with the deadline rapidly approaching?" She asks with a quirked brow.

"Forget the book, you nerd! What happened? Did he walk you to your door? Did you kiss him? Did you forget to call me because you miraculously unclenched and had your way with him? I'm _dying _here!"

"Slow down, drama queen," Lucy replies with a thin smile and a roll of her eyes. "It was just coffee. No big deal."

"No big deal?" Amy practically shrieks. "You saw him, right? I mean, you're not blind? You know he's basically a Shondaland hunk and a half but better because he's hella real, don't you?" When she doesn't reply right away Amy slaps a hand down on her desk, causing Lucy to jump. "Oh my god, Lucy, please tell me you do. He's gorgeous!"

She rolls her eyes and shrugs. "Yeah, okay, Noah's gorgeous. And nice. But...I don't know, there wasn't much else there. He was just...adequate."

Amy's eyes narrow suspiciously on her as she opens her salad container and spears several pieces of lettuce for a quiet moment. Finally, she speaks again. "This isn't still because of Jonas, is it? Because that guy was an asshat."

Lucy laughs loudly as she reaches for the salad Amy dropped on her and shakes her head. "Trust me, it has nothing to do with Jonas. Noah's just...not the guy, that's all."

"Okay, so he's not the guy. There's no rule against dating someone who's not The One, you know? You could just date him for the fun of it."

"That seems like a waste of his time and mine," she responds as she sits back further in her chair.

"So?" Amy asks. "What's wrong with wasting a little time? I mean, I know mom rode your ass hard for basically our whole lives, but you don't have to follow her rules anymore. Your time is yours. You can waste it if you want."

"That's the thing, I don't particularly want to waste time. Honestly, I would like to find someone to build a life with. Don't get me wrong, I'll be fine if I don't. Being single forever wouldn't be the end of the world, but if I'm going to date then I want it to be leading somewhere. I want to see a future. I don't see the point of it if I don't," Lucy answers thoughtfully. "Does that make sense?"

Amy swallows her bite and nods slowly. "I think so. It's not my philosophy but I think I get it. Alright, change of topic," she says, shifting gears. "Vacation."

Lucy lets out a tortured groan. "Amy, we talked about this. I can't this summer. I have to have this book finished before classes start back. I won't have time once the semester starts."

"It's one weekend out of your ridiculous book schedule. Besides, it's our sister bonding time!"

"It is not!" Lucy yells with a laugh. "You spend it on the hunt for a random vacation hook up."

"Yeah, and I need my wing woman! Come on, Luce, this is the only vacation you take all year and it's a sad pathetic three day trip. You can't bail on me now."

"I don't know, Ames…"

"It's one weekend at the end of July. You'll still have — what? —a few weeks before UCLA starts back up? That's plenty of time to make up for three measly days in the sun and the sand," Amy pleads.

"You know we live on the west coast, right? We have beaches _here_. Malibu, Long Beach, Santa Monica—"

"But we know people here," Amy says with a whine. "I want to go somewhere and not worry about running into anyone I know. Please? Don't make me go alone. Don't be that bitch."

Lucy glares playfully at Amy before she finally sighs in resignation. "Fine. Three days. That's it."

"Yes!" Amy exclaims before she launches herself at Lucy in a bone crushing hug, almost dropping her salad in the process. "You don't have to worry about a thing! I'll make all the arrangements. It's gonna be great!"

"If you say so," Lucy replies with a soft chuckle. "You owe me big time, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, put it on my tab," she says dismissively.

Lucy laughs and hugs her sister in return. "Don't I always?"


	2. 1 Unforgettable

Chapter One: Unforgettable

* * *

"That mangorita you were drinking,

And that Coldplay song you were singing,

And I bet right now you're probably thinking,

That it's crazy I remember every detail,

But I do.

I can still smell your perfume,

Girl, that night was just like you,

Unforgettable."

-"Unforgettable" by Thomas Rhett

* * *

She is going to regret this. She just knows it. She has a limited amount of time to finish her book and she was planning on using all of her break from UCLA to get it done. Her deadline isn't until December, but once the semester starts there's no guarantee she'll have enough time amidst grading papers and midterms and making lesson plans. She wants it out of the way so she doesn't have to worry about it and to allow her plenty of time to fact check and edit.

But, no, she let her sister talk her into a beach vacation. (Despite the fact that they both live in Los Angeles which is surrounded by beach.) Okay, so it's only three days, but that's three days of writing she'll never get back.

"Yes! East Coast beach! We know _no one _here! Now, I can prowl with absolutely no guilt," Amy declares excitedly as they load into their rental car. "This is going to be so much fun!"

"For you, maybe," Lucy replies with a chuckle. "This trip is never as much fun for the wing woman."

"I mean, you're single, Luce. No one's keeping you from changing that wing woman status, you know?" Amy says with a smirk. "I'm sure we could find you someone. Plenty of men in the world to go around."

Lucy rolls her eyes at her baby sister as she climbs in the passenger side of the car. "No thanks. If you abandon me for a man then maybe I can squeeze in some writing, after all."

"No!" Amy yells. "No writing! If I see you writing I will make you take a shot of something. My choice."

"You're the actual worst."

Amy cackles and winks at her. "You love me. Don't deny it."

"Eh, only sometimes."

"Without me you would never leave your apartment and would spend all your time with a nose in a book like the stone cold nerd you actually are," Amy taunts her as she starts the car.

"Brat," Lucy replies, laughingly.

"You know I'm right," Amy practically sings.

They pull away from their parking spot and then out onto the road, headed toward whatever resort Amy chose. Lucy wasn't allowed to touch anything for this trip. She wasn't even told their destination was Myrtle Beach until Amy picked her up that morning. A weekend alone with her baby sister in a place teaming with shirtless swim trunk clad men? Yeah, she is definitely going to regret this.

They find their resort and check in, but almost as soon as Amy's bag hits the floor she's making plans.

"Six o'clock here, but three back home. I'm too jazzed to take it easy. Did you see the tiki bar downstairs? It had dancing, live music, and everything—"

"Tiki bar, Amy?"

"Lucy, unclench. Put on a sundress and a little make up. We're going out."

Amy picks her bag back up and locks herself in the bathroom.

Well, that's that. They're going to a tiki bar.

_Just peachy._

At some point, she should really stop being such a curmudgeon and let herself have a good time. But then isn't that how it always is with Amy? She drags her out in public while Lucy fights her tooth and nail. And how many of those times has Amy really steered her wrong? Absolutely, none of them. She's right. Without her Lucy would shut herself up in her apartment or her office and drown in her work. That's not exactly a life and she knows it.

So, maybe a little drinking and sisterly bonding isn't a horrible idea.

She unpacks a light blue sundress and a pair of tan wedge sandals. She never lets herself get all dolled up these days. That coffee with Noah a few weeks ago was an anomaly and it's not as if that led anywhere. It was her choice not to pursue that further, but still. She finds a mirror on the far wall and does her best to fluff her limp hair and refresh her travel weary face. She doesn't plan on a vacation hook up the way Amy does but a little flirting could be fun.

Maybe.

It's a possibility, at least.

After all, anything's a possibility on vacation, isn't it? There's nothing wrong with letting herself have a life for three days before her book and UCLA swallow her up again.

She knows it's not Vegas but the same rules apply, don't they?

What happens in Myrtle Beach, stays in Myrtle Beach.

* * *

Wyatt Logan will never admit this to his friends, but nagging works.

Literally, everyone he works with closely at Mason Industries nagged him about taking a vacation. Their suggestions were Cancun (no), The Bahamas (again no), or Daytona Beach (maybe, if there'd been any worthwhile races). But he didn't want a party scene. That wasn't him. So, to please them and himself he'd decided on Myrtle Beach. His friends could tell themselves he would take part in the nightlife (he absolutely would not) and he could tell them he planned to spend the weekend golfing (again, no, he'll watch it but he can't play it.)

Both excuses gave him permission to lounge around the resort, minding his own business, and saved him the nagging.

Never leaving the Mason Industries offices where he was head of security appeared to be a problem to them, but what else was he supposed to do?

He was divorced and hated dating and his only hobby was a solitary activity. The only time he socialized during the week was the weekly Mason Industries poker game (which according to Dave, didn't count.)

But whatever, if it made them all feel better he would take a few days to relax around a pool or a beach or maybe just sleep it away in his room. No sweat off of his back.

He'd gotten in earlier that day, having taken an overnight flight from San Francisco to Myrtle Beach. Sleeping on the flight was impossible so he spent the day catching up. But now he's wide awake, three hours behind everyone else in this state, and going stir crazy.

He showers and changes into khaki shorts and a cheesy Hawaiian shirt that Rufus had given him as a gag gift when he booked the trip. He's at the beach. Why not dress for it? He slips on his flip flops and decides to check out the tiki bar in the resort lobby.

With his shirt he'll fit right in.

He approaches the bar and claims a stool just as a brunette in a blue sundress is waving off some drunk in a Margaritaville t-shirt. She scowls at the man's back as he walks away and Wyatt can't help but smirk at her in amusement.

She hasn't noticed him sitting on the stool next to where she's currently leaning. He flags down the bartender and orders a beer, some local brew with a quirky name, before he finally feels her eyes on him. She shifts a little further away, allowing them both more personal space, and the movement causes a tropical scent to waft his way. Coconut, maybe? Whatever it is, he likes it.

He lets himself run his eyes up and down the length of her, discreetly. She's slim but not tall, curvy long legs stretch out from the hem of her light blue dress, leading to tan sandals and peach colored toenails. Her makeup is light but with her fair complexion and amber eyes she doesn't need it. She's _gorgeous_. Striking enough that he doubts he'll be forgetting her face anytime soon.

The bartender sets two drinks in front of her and she walks away without even giving him a second glance. Yeah, that seems right. She's probably too classy for him anyway, he thinks as he accepts his beer from the bartender and takes a long sip. She likely has some tall, dark, and handsome boyfriend tucked in a corner booth some place.

He turns on his stool to take in the rest of the bar. It's quirky but not too quirky. There's a band playing out on the patio and a decently sized dance floor. The music is a playlist of classic, easy, beach music. A mix of Motown and Oldies with a country song tossed in here and there. Eventually, he spots the brunette in a corner booth as he predicted but she's not with a date — well he supposes she could be — she's with a blonde. Slim like her, but different in every other way. If the brunette is a golden fire then the blonde is bright neon. One simmers, the other buzzes.

He's more than a little intrigued by the combination.

A frosted tipped blonde guy in board shorts and a shirt that he hasn't bothered to button walks by their table and the buzzing neon blonde follows him with her gaze. The brunette rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Okay, so not a date.

The brunette says something with a playful sharp smirk, the blonde flashes her the middle finger and then slips out of the booth. The brunette laughs and slowly continues to sip her drink.

He forces himself to look away. He's not sure why he's so captivated by her, but if he doesn't stop watching her he knows he'll scare her. He doesn't normally notice women like this. That's been the problem with his dating life since his divorce. No one seems to hold his interest for very long. Granted, he hasn't dated in a while and never as a fully grown adult, but dating seems to be a _game_ these days.

No one seems interested in being themselves. They would rather be whoever you want them to be. Wyatt isn't interested in that kind of game. He wants the real thing. He thought he had that with Jess, but he'd mistaken teenage hormones for deep and abiding love. What seemed like lightning was lust and once the thrill was gone they realized there just wasn't much else there.

Now, he wants the lightning. Not lust or infatuation - okay, not _only _lust or infatuation. No, he wants the sizzle of a genuine connection. A spark. Something that can be kindled into a real and honest love.

But he has his doubts that he deserves something like that. He's already messed up one relationship. Isn't that enough for one lifetime? Does he get another chance at it? Or is it pass or fail and you're done?

While he's debating this question, the brunette appears next to him at the bar. She gets the bartender's attention to order another drink, a mango margarita to be exact, and waits. There's more space between them than there was before but the band has stopped playing in between sets and through the silence in the bar he can make out her soft humming.

He thinks he recognizes the tune and grins. Kinda fitting considering the ocean on the other side of the patio.

He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Paradise?" He asks.

Her head swivels toward him and her amber eyes bore into his blue ones. He can see her debating whether or not she should address him. The conflict flashes across her face before she hesitantly bites her bottom lip and nods.

"Coldplay fan?" She asks.

He shrugs and waves his hand in a so-so motion. "They have a few good songs. Not Yellow, though. I hate that song."

She laughs softly and lifts a careless shoulder. "It is kind of obnoxious."

"Only kind of?" He asks with raised brows.

"Alright, a lot and extremely overplayed."

"Thank you for being honest enough to admit it," he replies with a smirk. He finishes off his beer and motions for another. The bartender nods in acknowledgement. "Most people wouldn't."

"I'm not going to die on that hill," she answers with a grin. "I know how to pick my battles."

"Wyatt," he says as he extends his hand out to her.

She stares at his hand and for an agonizing moment he's afraid she might brush him off. He desperately doesn't want to be brushed off. Her eyes clashing against his and her laugh ringing in his ears caused a quickening in his heart rate that he hasn't felt in _years_. He's not ready to let that go just yet.

He swallows instead of sighing in relief when she finally places her hand in his. "Lucy."

"Nice to meet you, Lucy," he says as a genuine smile stretches across his lips. He repeats the name five times in his head like his Grandpa taught him to do when he wants to remember something. He really wants to remember her.

She opens her mouth to reply but before she can the guy in the Margaritaville t-shirt, from earlier, shoves his way in between them.

"Hey, sweetcheeks, you're still here," he slurs. "Guess your date didn't show up, huh? Don't worry, doll, I'll keep you company."

The guy reeks of alcohol and the leer on his face is disgusting. He leans into Lucy's space and she grimaces before stepping back and then around him to Wyatt's other side. Her eyes briefly widen in panic before they find Wyatt and brighten with hope.

Her hands land on his shoulders and slide down his biceps. His body immediately reacts to her touch. _Shit, _that feels good. His skin burns where her hands linger and he feels it like static electricity. He's never felt that in his _life._

"Actually, this is him," she says smoothly. "Right, sweetheart?"

She squeezes his arms as she says the endearment, silently asking for his help. He smirks at her and then covers one of her hands with his. "Absolutely, babydoll." He can see her conceal a scowl at the nickname and has to keep his laughter in check. "We've got a full night ahead, you and me. Starting with a dance," he says as he motions to where the band is taking their places for their next set. "If you'll excuse us."

He keeps her hand in his as he slides off the stool and leads her toward the patio, all the while he feels her eyes on the back of his head. He can't tell if she's upset or grateful, but she keeps a tight grip on his fingers as he pushes through the small crowd so he figures she can't be too upset. She hasn't shoved him away, at least.

They reach the middle of the dance floor just as a slow song starts and he turns to place his hands on her waist, holding his breath when his eyes seek out hers. Her expression is a combination of gratitude and frustration that he finds completely endearing. Damn if he's not already a sucker for her.

"Was the babydoll thing really necessary?" She asks with a huff.

He chuckles and shrugs. "Probably not. Did it offend you?"

"It's just sort of, I don't know, infantile, don't you think?" She snaps.

"Infantile, huh?" He asks teasingly. "Mighty big word, Professor." She gives him an exasperated look and he can't resist another chuckle. "Alright, I get it. I'm sorry. No more infantile endearments. I promise. I was just trying to play along. I had to match your 'sweetheart' with something and it was the first thing that came to mind."

Her face morphs from irritated to apologetic in the span of a second. "About that. I'm not normally the type to throw myself at a guy or need some knight in shining armor to save the day, but I panicked. I had already gotten rid of that guy once - or tried to - and I really didn't want to spend the night fending him off. I'm sorry if I put you in a weird spot. Thank you for helping me out."

"My pleasure," he replies with a soft smile. "Happy to help fend off douchebags anytime you want. Not that you don't seem totally capable of that all on your own."

He doesn't miss the way she blushes at his compliment. The pink tint it adds to her cheeks is very becoming.

Her arms wrap around his neck as they begin to sway in time with the music, just as his hands encircle her waist. He thought the static electricity was intense before, but now, with her standing so close, it's infinitely more intense.

Is he alone in this feeling? Has she noticed it too?

"So," she says after a moment of silence. "Are you here on vacation?"

He nods. "Peer Pressure. My coworkers felt I hadn't slacked off as much as they would like."

Lucy chuckles and nods sympathetically. "Your coworkers and my sister would get along, I think."

"Your sister? Is that the blonde you were with?" He asks as understanding dawns.

"Yes, she's...a handful," Lucy tells him thoughtfully with a small grin. "She thinks I spend far too much time working so she used sisterly bonding to guilt me into coming. Even though, I'll likely spend most of this trip alone." Lucy rolls her eyes good naturedly and then nods toward the far corner of the dance floor where her sister has her arms around the frosted tips guy he'd seen her chase after. "She'll find a fling soon enough. She always does."

Wyatt grimaced slightly as he spoke. "Surely, she can do better than Frosted Tips over there."

"It's night one," Lucy replies with a soft laugh. "Give it time. So, now that we've established that I'm my sister's designated wing woman. What did you tell your coworkers you'd be doing?"

"One of my buddies forced me to book a couple of tee times," he answers. "One tomorrow morning and then another Saturday afternoon."

"You golf?" She asks as she gives him a bewildered once over. It seems she didn't take him for a golfer. She doesn't know how right she actually is.

He snorts and nods reluctantly. "Not well, but yeah I do."

"My dad golfed," she says apologetically. "And you just...seem very different from him, is all."

"It's not my favorite activity," he reveals with a grin. "So, you're not wrong. But my friend thinks it'll be relaxing. Jury's still out on that one."

The song ends and Wyatt thinks he sees disappointment on her face. Maybe she does feel the pull, after all. He looks back through the door toward the bar and finds both their drinks sitting next to his stool. He adjusts his hold on her hand so that their fingers are threaded together and then leads her back inside.

The Margaritaville douchebag is still there, watching them. Lucy's eyes find him with a tired sigh. She bites her bottom lip and then her gaze wanders to the booth she and her sister had occupied.

"Would you mind—feel free to say no because I got myself into this mess—but would you mind sitting with me until my sister gets back, at least?" She asks as she points to the booth.

He releases her hand to grab both of their drinks and then nods toward the booth. "I don't mind. Lead the way, ma'am."

She blanches at him and shakes her head. "Okay, I know I said no infantile nicknames but you really don't have to skip straight to the geriatric ones."

He laughs loudly and rolls his eyes. "Why don't you get me a list of approved terms of endearment then, huh? That way I'll know what I _can_ call you."

They slide into the booth, a little cozier than strictly necessary, but it honestly wasn't his decision. She's the one who scooted closer to _him_. Not that he minds. He _definitely_ doesn't mind. She sees him notice their proximity and gives him a nervous glance.

"He's still watching," she says as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm not complaining," he tells her with a wink.

She laughs. "Yeah, I bet you're not."

"I'll take what I can get," he admits. "I'm sure you've got some guy who's crazy about you back home, anyway."

She doesn't confirm his statement and his eyebrows lift as he focuses an astonished look on her.

"Right?" He asks again. Maybe she didn't hear him.

She ducks the question by taking a sip of her mangorita.

"You're shitting me," he says with a wide eyed stare. "Do you come from a land of idiots?"

She lets out a soft laugh that he can tell she tries and fails to hold in. It's a beautiful sound. "Yes, I definitely do. Which is why I'm currently single."

Miracle of miracles, he's finally genuinely interested in someone and she's actually single. Is it possible his luck is changing?

"You?" She asks, warily.

Does she think he would be flirting with her like this if he wasn't single? Then again, the world is full of assholes and tools. Margaritaville Douchebag is proof enough of that.

"Nobody's waiting on me to get home. I can promise you that," he assures her. He musters all the false bravado he can manage and flashes her a cocksure grin. "Why? You interested?"

She rolls her eyes but contradicts it with a grin. "Keep dreaming."

"Ouch," he says as he matches her grin with one of his own. "That's hurtful."

See, this is what he's been missing from all his other dates. Fire, sparks, personality. This woman has all of it in spades and he's already making plans to pursue their connection further. He knows this is rare so even if he's on vacation, he's not letting this opportunity pass him by.

Out of nowhere the blonde, her sister, approaches the booth with her eyes focused on her phone as she speaks. "Lucy, I must be going a little crazy because I could swear earlier I saw you on the—" She pauses mid sentence when she looks up to find him sitting next to Lucy. "Well, _hello_. I guess I'm not crazy after all. Who's this?" She asks Lucy as she points to Wyatt.

Lucy swats her pointing finger away and answers her sister slowly with a stern glare. "This is Wyatt. Wyatt this is Amy. Wyatt was just helping me fend off a drunk creeper. Please don't be weird about this."

Amy grins slowly and then sits down in the chair across from him. "Weird? Why would I be weird? Because you finally seem to be getting a life?" Amy then turns an eager glance on him and gestures wildly as she continues. "See, about a year ago there was this guy, who was also her bo—"

"Oh my god, shut the hell up," Lucy interrupts as she throws a handful of bar nuts at her.

"What? I'm trying to help you out!" Amy says with a mischievous smirk.

"This is why I'm the designated wing woman," Lucy tells her. "You _suck_ at it. That is not a story you tell a _stranger_. Or anyone, really."

"Alright, alright," Amy replies with an eye roll. "I'll keep it to myself." She smiles at Wyatt and shrugs. "It was juicy though, trust me."

"Excuse my sister," Lucy tells him. "She sometimes lacks a filter."

"Filters are overrated," Amy says dismissively. "Anyways, Gavin invited me to a party he and his friends are throwing in their hotel rooms. I just came over here to see if you wanted to go with."

"Frosted Tips is named Gavin?" Wyatt asks with a disgusted curl of his lips. "I think I liked calling him Frosted Tips better."

Lucy bites her lip to keep from laughing and then shakes her head at her sister. "No, you go ahead. I'm beat from the flight. I'll probably head up soon to get some sleep."

"God, you're so old," Amy tells her with a teasing grin. "I'm not even remotely tired. I guess that's the advantage of being so much younger."

"Excuse me, I am the queen of all nighters. Do I have to remind you how many nights I've stayed up till sunrise grading or writing? My age has nothing to do with it. Thank you very much," Lucy tells her primly.

"Right," Amy says with a roll of her eyes. "Well, enjoy your alone time, introvert."

"Thank you, extrovert, I absolutely will."

"Just a warning," Amy says as he shares a secretive glance with Wyatt. "She's a huge ass nerd."

"She's been using words like infantile and geriatric," he replies with an amused grin. "I kind of figured. But it's alright. I'm used to it. I work with a whole herd of huge ass nerds. I got this."

Lucy is shaking her head at them but Wyatt can tell she's more charmed than annoyed. She flicks a cashew at Amy from the bowl of beer nuts on the table and then waves her hand at her in a shoo-ing motion. "Just go. Get out of my sight, already."

"I'm gone," Amy says as reaches across the table to grab her purse. "I'll text you when I'm on my way back to the room. Or if Gavin turns out to be a little shit and I get arrested for assault."

"I'll have bail money ready just in case."

"Aw, you really are the _best_ sister."

"I know. Be careful, brat."

"Always am," Amy says with a wink before she saunters away from him.

Wyatt chuckles as he watches Amy's retreating back. "You weren't exaggerating. She actually _is_ a handful."

"I told you." She chuffs out a laugh and takes another sip of her drink. "She's a bold and beautiful hot mess. I don't know what I would do without her." Her gaze lands on the bar and she reaches for her clutch. "I should close out our tab."

He speaks before he has a chance to overthink it. "Nah, I got it."

"What?" She asks urgently. "Oh, no, Wyatt, I can't let you—"

"No, don't worry about it. I feel bad you spent the night harassed by a lesser member of my gender. Let me make it up to you," he says before he downs the last sip of his beer.

She blushes and shakes her head, causing a few strands of hair to fall across her face. "I shouldn't."

"Really," he rebuts. "I insist. No strings attached, I promise." Before she can argue again he stands from the booth. "Be right back."

As he sets off across the bar room, he considers it a win that she doesn't call out to stop him. Like he told her earlier, he'll take what he can get. Even if it's something as simple as paying her bar tab.

* * *

What is she doing? She should put a stop to this. Let him down easy. Because there is no way this ends well, right? How can it? Yes, okay, he seems nice and he's single and _extremely_ attractive. Not to mention, there's a strange pull that she feels _deeply_, as if whatever is causing it has been imbedded in her from the very moment she was born. But that doesn't mean anything. Sure, she finds him attractive, but that attraction isn't guaranteed to turn into anything else. And even if it did, they're both on _vacation_. Miles from home and any real life consequences.

Vacation romances aren't _real_.

And hadn't she just finished telling Amy she didn't want to pursue anything unless it was real? How could she go back on that now?

Wyatt glances over at her as he hands the bartender his card and smiles brightly. Something deep in her belly flips and heat floods her veins. Instinctively, she crosses her legs and presses her thighs together to fight off the need he's set off inside of her. _Shit_. What was that reaction? All he did was _smile_. She really needs to get a handle on her hormones.

She doesn't even _know him_. He's a stranger. _A stranger._

He finishes paying and then walks back toward her with a confident kind of swagger that only adds to the ache in between her legs.

Oh god. Her mind is screaming at her in a panic. Get out, get out, get out. _Get out._

As he reaches her, she stands and slips out of the booth, with her clutch in hand.

"You're leaving?" He asks. She sees his disappointment clearly in his eyes.

She's tempted to give him the answer she knows he wants, but the rush of panic in her head overpowers that temptation. "Yeah, long day. I'm beat. Thank you for taking care of the tab. I really do appreciate it."

He waves off her thanks and shrugs modestly. "Don't mention it." There's a pause as he stares at her thoughtfully. "Let me walk you back." He motions over his shoulder to the creep that's been stalking her all night long. "Keep him in his place, you know?"

She wants to take off running and never look back, but he has a point. "That's probably a good idea. At least to the elevator, anyway."

He nods and motions for her to go first. He's been letting her lead all night long and it's been..._nice_. Jonas always tugged her along, like a ball and chain. She felt like a burden with Jonas, especially at the end, but not with Wyatt. If anything he makes her feel like a priority. With one evening, he's already surpassed her expectations. Or at least what she's been accustomed to.

He presses the call button for the elevator and they both wait in silence.

Wyatt clears his throat awkwardly. "So, is this goodnight or goodbye? Any chance I might see you again?"

She blushes and glances down at her sandals. "I don't know," she answers. "I guess it's possible you might see me around. We're here for the next three days."

"I'll take possible," he replies with a grin. "That's better than goodbye, at least. I really enjoyed meeting you tonight, Lucy. Honestly, highlight of the trip so far."

She laughs. "How long have you been here again?"

"Just today." He smirks and winks. "I think it'll all be downhill from here."

"God, you're charming, aren't you?" She asks him with a knowing grin.

"Only when I want to be. Most of the time I'm a real pain in the ass."

"I have no doubt."

The elevator doors open and they both step inside. She presses the button for her floor and he presses the button for his. One floor apart. Against her will, her brain files that information away. She's not sure why.

She runs a hand through her hair and shifts her weight nervously before she meets his eyes again. "I had a good time tonight, Wyatt. Thank you for playing along and thank you for the drinks. I was lucky you were there."

He shakes his head and an honest smile spreads across his face. "You got that backwards."

Her brow furrows at him, silently asking for clarification.

"_I'm _lucky _you _were there. You could have handled that douchebag on your own. You didn't need me. So, I'm the lucky one. Right place, right time, right woman," he says with a small smile and a tilt of his head. "Might be the first time Lady Luck ever did me a favor, if I'm honest."

How the hell is she supposed to respond to that? God, he's being so sweet. Why can't he be a jackass? Or full of himself on a toxic level? Why does he have to seem so...so..._honorable and decent_?

"God, who are you? Captain America?" She asks in an incredulous tone.

He wrinkles his brow and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can get a word out her feet carry her across the elevator and directly into his personal space. Whatever he was going to ask is cut off in the next moment by her lips being placed firmly on his. She moves quickly to keep from second guessing herself and wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer. She's been dying to know what his lips would feel like against hers all night long and that last comment is the last straw.

She feels him sink into it and circle his arms around her waist. She sucks gently on his bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open, and then his tongue his against hers. He's giving as good as he gets. The perfect push to her pull. One of his hands lands on the back of her neck and the other is splayed wide open across her back. She's momentarily distracted by the feel of it.

Good god, his hands are _huge._

He uses her distracted moment to turn the kiss around on her. He takes charge and backs her up toward the opposite wall. He forces her to tilt her head up just a little more, completely changing the angle of the kiss and allowing him more access. There's no stopping the whimper that escapes her throat.

He is very good at this. _Fuck._

The elevator beeps indicating they've reached her floor and the doors open. She jerks back from him with what she's sure is an awestruck face. Judging by his heavy breathing and slack jaw, he's feeling everything she is. His pupils are blown and his expression is eager.

She almost feels bad about what she's about to do. She steps out of his arms and then into the hallway with a teasing grin.

"This is my stop. I think I can take it from here. Have a good night, Wyatt."

His brows nearly disappear under the hair that falls across his forehead. "Fuck, are you serious?"

She lets out a short laugh and nods with a coy wave. "See you around."

"Oh, you definitely will," he promises with an impressed grin as the doors start to close. "Shit, that's mean. And why do I find it so hot?"

She's almost certain her shocked guffaw wakes her neighbors. His reaction leaves her feeling empowered instead of cruel and she walks back to her room with her hands pressed to her kiss swollen lips.

She's never done anything like that before. She can't explain why she chose to do it then. It just felt right.

Oh God, what has gotten into her? Is it him? Is it the spirit of vacation? Is it both?

She's not sure, but she's also not sure she wants this feeling to go away, and that scares her the most. Feeling this much happiness is a dangerous thing.

* * *

"Hold on," Amy says as she beams at Lucy. "Say that again?"

Amy finally shows up on the beach around lunchtime the next day. She left who ever she's taken up with now to bring Lucy a burger and fries and lay out in the sand. Lucy reluctantly updates her on Wyatt and what happened after Amy left them the night before. Amy's shock is expected but the shiteating grin on her face is not. Lucy finds it irksome.

"Amy," Lucy says with a tired sigh.

"No, I think I misheard you. You _what_? With _who_?"

Lucy rolls her eyes at her younger and much more dramatic sister. "The guy at the bar last night. I kissed him."

"You kissed a stranger!" Amy yells with a proud grin. "You kissed someone without a background check!"

"I don't do background checks," Lucy replies as she laughs and throws a french fry at her.

"Whatever." Amy chuckles as she dodges the fry and then looks at Lucy expectantly. "So, how was it?"

Her fingers subconsciously press against her lips before she speaks. "_Good_. Too good. _Amazing. _I think I want to do it again."

"Oh my god, it's finally happened!" Amy exclaims. "I've convinced you to have a fling! This is amazing!"

"I didn't say that," Lucy corrects her. "Besides, what are the chances I'll see him again anyway? I'm sure he's busy."

Amy shakes her head and winks at her. "I think you underestimate yourself, Luce. With the way he was looking at you, I have a good feeling that he'll be back. You're a quality snack, sis."

Lucy isn't quite sure what that means. Half the time she feels like Amy is speaking a foreign language. "Um, thank you?"

Amy's eyes widen as she spots something over Lucy's shoulder and her grin curls further upward. "Speak of the devil. And I do mean devil because holy hell that man is _sinful_."

The vacant lounger beside her is filled in the next moment and Lucy turns to find Wyatt in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and swim trunks - giving her a glorious view of the hard plains of his stomach and the cuts at his hips. She gives herself a self conscious glance. Her body, compared to his, is much softer. Not only that, but in her black bikini she's giving him much more of a show than she'd like.

"Afternoon, ladies," Wyatt says with an easy smirk.

His eyes drift to hers and she's blown away by how badly she wants to feel that smirk against her lips. Lucy's mouth immediately goes dry as if she's swallowed a fistful of sand. Her eyes are stuck on him and no words form on her lips.

"Wyatt," Amy says as her gleeful gaze flips between him and Lucy. "You look relaxed."

He lifts a shoulder letting his blue eyes slowly rake over Lucy, from head to toe, but stopping before they can meet her brown ones.

"Just glad to be here," he says as he sweeps another meaningful glance over her. "And, you know, I had a pretty good night."

Lucy has to fight off a shiver at the feeling of his eyes on her, despite the muggy heat that surrounds them. "I thought you said you had a tee time this morning?"

He quirks a brow and his smirk turns crooked. "Memorized my schedule, did you?"

Oh god, she hates herself and her quick memorization skills sometimes. "No, I just have a good memory. You mentioned it last night."

"I blew it off," he replies, letting his eyes link with hers. "Hanging out around here seemed much more interesting all of a sudden."

Amy bites her lip in barely contained joy and makes a show of fanning herself. "Jesus, it's a scorcher all of a sudden, isn't it? I think I'm going to go take a dip to cool off." She winks at Lucy again before she scampers off, calling over her shoulder as she runs. "Have fun, you two!"

Could she be any more obvious? "Sometimes, I really despise my sister."

Wyatt laughs and steals a fry from her take out container. "It's obvious she means well. Give her credit for the attempt at an excuse, at least."

"I'm a college professor so I feel I can say with authority that 'A for effort' isn't actually a thing," she tells him with a grin.

"Harsh," he says through a chuckle. There's a beat and then, "So…"

"So?" She asks.

"Do you have dinner plans, Professor?"

"What?" She asks in surprise.

"Dinner? Do you have plans?" He repeats.

"Wyatt," she says as she shakes her head at him. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Despite how phenomenal that kiss was, she's still not sure they should take it any further. She absolutely wants to kiss him again, but beyond that? She's just not sure.

"What? Dinner? Why? Do you not eat?" He asks as his confident grin dims slightly.

"No, I eat—"

"Then why not? You eat. I eat. We'll just share a table," he says. "Less work for the bus boys that way."

In spite of herself, she chuckles and rolls her eyes at him playfully. "How pragmatic of you."

It's a weak argument but she's ashamed to say it almost works. That's how desperate she is to see more of him. Christ, this has to stop. Wanting anyone this badly has to be unwise.

"That's me," he replies with a smirk. "A pragmatist."

"Uh huh," she says, hoping she comes across as unconvinced.

A hush falls between them as the mood shifts from playful to profound. She can feel in the air around them how much Wyatt wants her full attention. He's silently requesting her serious consideration.

"Just one dinner, Lucy. That's all I'm asking for," he pleads as the smirk falls away to reveal a heart wrenching earnest expression.

The thing is, dinner almost guarantees that she'll kiss him again and it's not that she doesn't want to kiss him. It's that kissing him again presents other complications and problems. If she kisses him again, will she be able to stop? Does she want to stop? She _should _want to stop. She doesn't know where he's from or what he does for a living or even _his last name_. There's an entire country song about why this is a bad idea.

Besides, what's the point of getting invested if it won't go any further than the weekend?

Then again, she doesn't like the idea of saying no any better than saying yes. They barely scratched the surface last night and already she's trying to piece him together, like a puzzle. Plus, she has never in her entire life been kissed the way he kissed her. He kissed her with everything he had in him. It felt as if they'd been the only two people in the world. No one treated her as if she were _that _special.

Oh, who the hell was she kidding? There was no way she could say no. Not to him.

No _fucking_ way.

"Okay, one dinner," she agrees as she holds up her pointer finger. Just because she knows she can't resist him, doesn't mean _he _needs to know that.

"For now," he amends with a lopsided smirk. _Damn_, okay, maybe he already knows. "Seven, okay?"

"Perfect," she replies with a nod.

His eyes linger over her again before he nods and stands from the lounger. Why exactly does his gaze cause her to press her thighs a little tighter together? He managed to do that even _before_ she kissed him. But now that she knows how his lips move against hers and how his hard chest feels under hands? Well, _shit_, she's in trouble.

So. Much. Trouble.

He holds his smirk steady, knowingly, like he's been reading her thoughts. "See you tonight, babydoll."

She rolls her eyes at the nickname and laughs. "Don't call me babydoll, sweetheart."

She bites her lip as she watches him walk away, a pleasant sight by any definition, and comes to one very big realization.

He is going to be the death of her. She's certain of it.

So, why isn't she running away?

* * *

Jesus, this professor is going to kill him. She practically jumps him in the elevator while simultaneously being adorably unsure about being alone with him? He doesn't know if that's frustrating or enticing. Maybe it's both?

He has no doubt she feels the same attraction he does. Now, he just needs to figure out what's holding her back.

And her last name.

He probably shouldn't be making out with women without learning their full names. But _Christ _she can kiss. There was no lack of enthusiasm that was for damn sure. If she hadn't stepped out of the elevator and let the doors close behind her, he's pretty certain he would have asked her to stay on for one more floor.

He could have woken up with her in his bed instead of on his mind. Sleep had not come easy last night. He almost didn't want to brush his teeth. He liked the taste of her and her mangorita a bit too much. He spent the whole night reliving every moment of it. He had to go for a run this morning just to get rid of all the pent up tension.

She left him gasping for more. Does she realize how insane she makes him? Probably not. She doesn't seem like the type to understand her own power. In fact, until she pressed herself against him in that elevator he _assumed_ she was shy. Clearly, he assumed wrong.

And now he has a date.

While on vacation.

Is this crazy? A mistake? He knows he can be an impulsive idiot, but is this _too_ impulsive?

Is it just attraction? Or is it more than that? Is it the vacation vibe making him feel this way? Or is it her? Is it simply lust and loneliness?

No, he wanted a date before she kissed him. It's not (only) lust. As soon as his mind suggests he's letting his attraction get away with him, he knows that's not right. Yeah, he's attracted to her. He feels like he's been meant to be attracted to her his whole life. But it's more than that. He likes her. Genuinely. She's funny. Feisty. Independent. At least that's what he's seen so far. He wants to see more. He wants to learn all he can about her. He wants to know every detail of who she is and who she wants to be.

And that's why people date, isn't it? To learn those things?

So, no he's not crazy. This is exactly the right move.


	3. 2 Make Me Want To

**A/N: **So, I'm posting this earlier than I thought because Fiona (sketchingwitch on twitter) wore me down with a drawing of blue eyed Wyatt AND Red Scare Lucy. I told her I would post chapter two as soon as I finished the current chapter I was working on, well I did that tonight. So now you guys get Chapter Two several days early.

Happy reading!

angellwings

PS - check out sketchingwtich on twitter and look at her AMAZING work if you haven't already. It's all gorgeous!

* * *

Chapter Two: Make Me Want To

* * *

"What's your name? What ya drinking?

Yeah, what's your favorite song?

If you're thinking what I'm thinking,

We ain't gonna be in this bar too long.

We'll be sneaking on out to your car,

Stealing kisses out there in the dark.

Yeah, it might be too soon to say I love you,

But you're gonna make me want to."

-"Make Me Want To" by Jimmie Allen

* * *

Preston. Her last name is Preston.

He makes sure to ask her that first thing upon picking her up at her hotel room door.

"Yours?" She asks as they walk toward the elevator.

"Logan," he replies.

"Wyatt Logan," she says as she lets the syllables roll slowly over her tongue. "It fits. I like it."

He's pretty sure his heart skips a beat as his name leaves her lips. His name has never sounded more like music.

He grins. "Professor Lucy Preston. She sounds like a hard ass, but a fun one."

She laughs and nods at him as he presses the call button for the elevator. "That's the dream. You want their respect _and_ their fear. Hopefully, more respect than fear. You know, I still don't know what you do."

"Private security," he answers. "Spend most of my days fending off corporate espionage. It sounds exciting, but it really isn't."

"Maybe not to you," she replies. "But I'd like to hear about it. I mean, you said your coworkers urged you to go on vacation because you spend too much time at work, right? So clearly, it's important to you."

"It is important to me. It's good work. Especially, since my company dabbles in defense contracts. But most of what I do is hiring the right people and making sure they follow through with what they promised me they could do. Or creating procedures and seeing to it that people actually follow them. Usually, when I say security people think I run around with a gun holstered to my hip. Then when I explain what I actually do, they seem disappointed. My job is more about strategy than enforcement. People really don't want to hear that," he admits with a self deprecating shrug.

"Well, I do," she insists. "Honestly, what you just described sounds more challenging than chasing down bandits with a gun."

"Bandits?" He asks with a teasing grin. "Alright, Calamity Jane."

She rolls her eyes, though those amber eyes are still filled with humor, and lightly smacks his arm. "You know what I mean."

The elevator doors open and he holds them so she can step in. They're not going far. Just downstairs to one of the restaurants at their resort. The resort has two. A casual diner and then a restaurant with a much more refined experience. He checked out the menu online. It's varied and has a few dishes that seem popular in the region. It felt like the right choice. Quiet and simple but not cheap.

"I appreciate that," he replies. He means that. He does. She understands where most people don't. "Where do you teach?"

"UCLA," she answers. "Started there last fall and thankfully there have already been conversations about tenure. Whenever that happens, it'll make things so much easier. I feel like I've been floating from school to school for most of my life. It'll be nice to really commit to a place for once."

Los Angeles. Could be worse. A 7 hour trip wouldn't be awful—

Wait. What is he doing? Slow it down, idiot. Horse _then_ cart.

"Do you like Los Angeles?" He asks. "Granted, I've only been there for a weekend here and there, but it seems a bit more...crowded than I'd like."

She must hear it in the words he chooses because he's not sure how she would know otherwise. "Wait. Do you live in California too?"

He nods. "Bay Area."

She blinks at him for a several seconds before she stutters out a response. "I—where?"

He assumes she means where in the Bay Area. "Palo Alto."

"Before UCLA, I taught at Stanford," she admits. "I used to live in Palo Alto."

"So, all the time we lived in the same area we never ran into each other but we somehow meet on vacation on the other side of the country?" He asks as their roles switch and it's _him_ blinking at _her._

"Seems so," she states with a dumbfounded look.

He would meet her _after_ she moved 7 hours away from him. "Well, our timing kind of sucks, doesn't it?"

She laughs and nods her agreement. It's not funny, not really, and yet it is. Because this could only happen to him. So he finds himself laughing with her.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised. The universe seems determined to only give me good things when there's a catch," Lucy says through a rueful laugh. "Been that way most of my life."

He knows exactly what she means. It's like finally finding your way out of Texas, away from your father, but giving up being there when your Grandpa passes. Or getting a solid dream job that keeps you stateside, only to have the reason you wanted to stay stateside crumble under your feet. So, meeting a girl you like, only to find out she lives seven hours away is simply another thing to add to the list.

Doesn't mean it's not _awful_. It's just..._typical_.

The elevator reaches the lobby floor and the doors open again. He holds out his hand for hers as they step out. He holds his breath, hoping she'll take it. He can tell she considers her options, but after only a brief pause he feels her place her hand in his. He nearly lets out an audible sigh. More contented than relieved. It seems impossible, but he feels like his hands are supposed to hold hers. He noticed in the bar the night before that her hands fit his remarkably well. Her palms and fingers mold snugly against his like a perfect fit. Like there's no other place for them to be.

He gives his name at check in and they're immediately led to a cozy table for two in the back. He requested quiet when he called. He's glad they were able to accommodate him. He wants to talk to her as badly as he wants to kiss her.

They hold off on discussing any important things until after they've ordered. Passing the time with small talk. Mostly about California, now that they know they have that in common. He finds out she's a born and raised California girl. Grew up in the Bay Area. Her mother is a professor at Stanford and has been her whole life. Beyond that, she's a bit tight lipped about her mother. There's a story there. He can tell. She shuts down about it as quickly as he does when his father comes up in conversation. He tells her that he is originally from Texas. For the time being, he leaves out his dad completely. Choosing to tell her that he was raised by his grandfather. It's not a lie because in every way that matters he _was _raised by his grandfather.

Then the waiter comes back and they place their orders all at once. Drinks, appetizers, entrees. Meaning the waiter will be gone for a while and they can dig a little deeper than the basics.

"So, what took you from Stanford to UCLA?" He asks.

She tenses. There will be more to this story than she's willing to tell him. He already knows. And that's fine. They just met yesterday. She owes him nothing.

"My mother, basically. Her reputation is so huge at Stanford that I never would have measured up," Lucy says as she feigns carelessness and shrugs. "It's still hard at UCLA. My mother is world class. She has name recognition so just being a Preston links me to her. I can't really avoid it. But the people in my department judge me by my _work_ not my connection to her. That wasn't always the case at Stanford. Honestly, I think Stanford only hired me because they wanted the set."

"The set?" Wyatt asks.

"Mother and Daughter. I think it looked good for them and got them on my mother's good side. She always wanted us to work together," she clarifies.

He can tell it bothers her and he can also tell she wants to pretend it doesn't.

"Well, their loss is UCLA's gain then," he assures her. "No one should be defined by who their parents are."

He's living proof of that.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Lucy says observantly.

How much should he tell her on a first date? He's not sure he wants to bog down their date with his past so he simply states, "Let's just say there's a reason I was raised by Grandpa Sherwin."

She nods in understanding. "I know tonight's probably not the night, but if you ever wanted to share…"

His wan smile immediately turns affectionate and he reaches across the table to cover her hand with his. "You'll be my first call." Which reminds him—"Speaking of, I would like your number."

"You would?" She asks in surprise.

He smirks at her surprise and then squeezes her hand. "Yeah, I make it policy to get the phone numbers of the people I make out with in elevators."

She chuckles quietly and replies, "That happens to you a lot, huh?"

"Nah," he says with a teasing wink. "Just the once, but I figure if I keep in touch there's more of a chance it'll happen again."

"You wish, Logan," she tells him.

"Yes, yes I do," he admits with a slow smirk. "Very much."

She laughs and holds her hand out toward him. "Just give me your phone, you dork. I'll put in my number."

He passes his phone to her so she can set up a contact for herself as their drinks and appetizers arrive. She texts herself and then gives him back his phone.

"And now I have your number too," she tells him while she pulls her phone out of her clutch and makes a contact for him.

The rest of the date progresses much the same. They try to familiarize each other with the easy things. Birthdays, favorite movies, music, foods. He learns she's writing a book about someone named Judith Campbell. When he asks who that is he's treated to what must be Professor Preston because the wealth of information he receives is presented in easy to digest bits and pieces. None of it overwhelming but all of it worthwhile.

"She's just absolutely fascinating, but because of the social expectations belonging to the era she lived in she eventually became a pariah. Essentially exiled and then ended up dying in obscurity. I mean, this is a woman who had the president in one hand and a mob boss in the other! And the world treated her as if she were lesser. Arguably, she possessed more strategic brilliance than either man she controlled, but even still no one knows who she is. Even now that our morals and ethical principles as a society have widened, she's still virtually ignored."

He listens and watches her gestures in slight astonishment. She glows when she talks about history - when she's passionate. For that alone, he could sit and listen to this all night long.

"And naturally you want to shed a little light on how important she really was, right?" Wyatt asks.

"Exactly, yes. She deserves that, I think," Lucy replies with a modest ducking of her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to monopolize the conversation."

"No, you didn't. I enjoyed all of it. You're absolutely right. Judith Campbell sounds ahead of her time and someone should make sure the world knows. Why not you?" Wyatt asks.

Her smile brightens and she nods. "Yes! Why _not_ me?"

Good God, that smile. Maybe he doesn't love her yet but with every passing minute she makes him want to. He's never felt this. Not an ache like this. Or a _need_ like this. And it's not just physical. It's emotional too. He _wants_ to see her happy. He wants to help her do anything and everything she dreams of. He's not sure what to call that feeling. But it's there.

They finish dinner but skip dessert. He's not ready for the night to be over yet, and he doesn't think she is either. The sun has set and the moon is high in the sky. He threads his fingers through hers as soon as he pays the bill and then pulls her out toward the beach. They hold their shoes in one hand and link their free hands, venturing close to the water as it laps against the shore.

There's silence for a few minutes, but it's not oppressive. It's comfortable. Neither feel the need to fill every moment with words. That's rare for a first date, he knows.

"Having fun?" He asks as they turn to walk back toward the resort.

"I am, actually," she answers. "And, no offense, I'm a little surprised. The last date I went on was not like this."

"I'm not offended," he replies with a soft laugh.

"I mean, the guy was nice enough," she continues. "I just didn't feel a connection. I could have taken the time to force it if I wanted to put in the effort but—"

"But forcing it seems like a waste of everyone's time," he finishes for her. "Yeah, I get it."

He uses the hand he holds in his own to tug her forward, pulling her against his chest. She stares at him for a beat before hesitantly leaning into it.

"What are we doing, Wyatt?" She asks him with a conflicted sigh. "Wouldn't this also be considered wasting our time?"

"Why? Because we live 7 hours away from each other?" He asks her with a knowing grin. He scoffs dramatically and squeezes her waist as he drops his shoes and lets his hands settle on either side of her. "That's _nothing_."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure that? Have you learned how to teleport in the last five minutes?" She asks dryly.

"Hey, I'm just grateful you're not a South Carolina native. I'll take a 7 hour drive over a cross country flight, any day," he says teasingly. The strange thing is, once the words leave his lips they don't feel like a joke. Is he already contemplating driving seven hours for her?

Oh god, _he is. _He is officially strategizing the best route from San Francisco to Los Angeles. He has _got to stop_. He is getting too far ahead of himself. (Remember, it's horse _then _cart. _Horse_ then _cart_.)

"True," she replies with a wry chuckle. "It could be worse."

"Look, let's just take it a step at a time," he tells her. "I'd rather spend the weekend enjoying being around you than stressing about a bridge we haven't reached yet."

"You're right," she says with a careful nod. "This doesn't have to be a big deal. I mean, it's a _vacation_. We're supposed to focus on the _fun_, aren't we? We're supposed to be _de-_stressing."

"Fun, huh?" He asks with a smirk as he skims a light touch over the curve of her hip and then around to the small of her back. "You know what's been the most _fun_ so far?"

He brings his other hand to her shoulder and brushes her hair back before continuing upward to cup her cheek against his palm.

Her hazy stare lingers over his lips before ambling it's way to meet his eyes. "I'm sure I have no idea," she tells him with a cheeky grin. "Maybe you should _enlighten_ me?"

He hears the challenge in her question loud and clear. She's already made a move. Now, it's his turn. Granted, it's been a little while since he's been on the edge of whatever the hell this is, and he's not exactly sure where the line is, but he knows if he kisses her - here and now - the way he really wants to kiss her…

Well, they might end up in jail.

So, he does something that's likely a risk. Maybe too bold or presumptuous. But if he's going to drink in her lips the way she deserves, he doesn't want an audience.

"Come upstairs with me," he requests softly as he presses his forehead against hers.

She doesn't rear back or slap him across the face. He takes that as a good sign. He feels the fingers on one of her hands wrap around a belt loop on his slacks. She tugs him closer. The hand that holds her shoes comes up and over his shoulder so that her arm can go around his neck.

She closes her eyes and hums thoughtfully, all the while he's mesmerized by the impish turn of her lips. "I think I might need a little convincing first."

He's asked her for something huge so she's right. She's owed some _convincing_.

His lips descend on hers without another moment's notice and he revels in the muffled sound of surprise she releases against his mouth. The sound of surprise transitions into a whimper as he traces her bottom lip with his tongue. Her mouth opens to his and just like last night, the taste of her is almost too much. Except instead of mango, now she tastes like white wine. He's never really enjoyed wine until tonight. Until _right now_ to be exact.

He hears a soft thud against the sand and some part of his brain registers that Lucy's dropped her shoes in her haste to press herself against him. Her softness completely compliments him. She's fit herself to him effortlessly. His arms lock around her back and lift her off the ground just enough to bring her height even with his. The kiss somehow deepens further and just as he's about to lose himself, possibly forever, he feels her hands pushing gently against his shoulders.

"I—I'm convinced," she says breathlessly. "Take me to your room, Wyatt. Or let's kick Amy out of mine. I really don't care. Just get me alone, _now_."

It's the best direct order he's ever received. "Yes, ma'am."

He has to will himself to calm down long enough to walk back into the resort, across the lobby, and into the elevator. He keeps Lucy placed strategically in front of him and tries to think of anything but her. This is a family resort, after all, and the last thing he needs is some scandalized mother calling hotel management on him. Lucy giggles a little too loudly the entire time and he knows his face has taken on a red tint. But the upside is that Lucy's giggle sounds like a wind chime and feels like a once in a lifetime opportunity. There's not much he wouldn't do to hear it again.

"This is your fault, you know," He whispers with a chuckle as they finally reach the elevator. "I tried to get you to go upstairs first."

She giggles again and then turns when the elevator doors close to press him against the back wall. She untucks his shirt from his slacks, letting her hands stall over his belt, and then ghosts her lips over his.

"You think you're the only one who's a little hot and bothered, sweetheart?"

_Fuck._ He just barely stops a moan from escaping as the doors open on his floor. Just a few more feet until he can act on the fantasies playing out in his head.

"Only a little?" He asks against the shell of her ear. He feels her shiver against him and smirks. "Guess we'll have to work on that. A _little_ just won't do, babydoll."

By the time they reach his door his belt is undone, her hair is no longer in a ponytail, and the zipper on the side of her dress is halfway undone. If the walk had been any longer they might have ended up nude in a public hallway.

It isn't until the door shuts behind them that he realizes they might have an actual problem. "Fuck," he mutters against her lips as she walks him backwards to the bed. He pulls back to meet her darkened eyes with a wince. "I didn't bring anything. I wasn't exactly planning on..._this_."

Lucy squints at him for a moment before his meaning breaks through her lust. He doesn't know what he expects, but it isn't the sound of her uninhibited laugher. She opens her clutch and dumps it's loose contents on the bed before she shoves him on to the mattress too. She throws the clutch aside and then straddles him with a beaming smile. He watches her through a needy fog as she picks up the pile foil wrappers on the bed and holds them up for him to see.

"Amy shoved a handful of condoms into my bag while I was in the shower. I think I got it covered," she declares with a grin. The power behind that grin floors him.

Shit, this is gonna be fun. He may not survive.

At first glance, Lucy seems shy. She was hesitant with him at the bar the other night, and until she pounced on him in the elevator the night before he thought he would be the one making the big moves. He was very _very_ wrong.

She reminds him just how wrong he was by running her hands along her bare thighs until she can grasp the bottom hem of her dress. He reaches up quickly to finish unzipping her, but as soon as the zipper reaches the end of the track the dress is gone. Leaving her straddling him in her underwear, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

It's sexy as hell.

In one quick fluid motion, he flips her underneath him and unbuttons his shirt just enough to pull it over his head. He has no time or patience for all those buttons. In the next moment, they're pressed chest to chest.

He takes a moment to study her. Her eyes are both dark and bright, her skin is heated and flushed, and her hair is mussed beyond repair.

"Christ, you're beautiful."

"Thanks," she demures awkwardly, looking away from him.

God damn, does she not know? How does she not know? She's _stunning_. He's putting a pin in that for later. They'll be coming back to it before the weekend is over. She _has_ to know. He'll see to it. With words _and actions_.

Starting right damn now.

He attaches his lips to her neck. She arches against him as he alternatively kisses and bites a trail across her shoulders and sternum. His lips land on the top curve of her breast and a pleased moan hits his ears. Jesus, how does he get her to do that again? He shifts and gently nips at the valley between her breasts. She writhes underneath him causing the strain against his trousers to increase.

One of her hands slides the belt out of the loops before both her hands reach for his fly. "Off," she says as he tugs the straps of her bra until they fall uselessly down her arms.

As she undoes the button on his fly he manages to get the clasp open on her bra.

He places a kiss over the same spot between her breasts and then grins up at her. "Layer for layer?" He asks. "Bra for pants?"

She laughs softly and nods. "Deal. Though, I think you're getting more skin than I am."

"I'll make it up to you," he promises as he lifts himself from her long enough to remove his pants.

She sits up, lets the bra go slack on her chest, and then slips it off. She holds it out to her side, one strap dangling on her finger.

"This the view you wanted?" She asks with a smirk.

God, she is _lethal_ with that smirk. His dumbfounded expression must be all the answer she needs because she drops the bra over the edge of the bed and then lays back down, waiting for him to join her.

He understands that he barely knows her, but for some reason when he joins her again and his bare chest rests against hers, it feels like this moment has been a long time coming.

"Where the hell have you been my whole life?" He asks with a jubilant laugh, a foreign sound to his own ears.

He laughs even harder at her cheeky reply. "Until last year? Palo Alto. Right under your damn nose."

Yeah, he's already doomed. He's going to fall for her fast and hard. He can tell. He just hopes she falls too or else he's in for a world of hurt.

* * *

She feels like she's possessed by some other liberated Lucy Preston because everything that's happened so far tonight _is not _her typical behavior. His kisses must be laced with some sort of confidence boosting drug. Because in no universe has Lucy ever told a man she just met to take her to his room. Nor has she ever dumped half a dozen condoms on his bed and declared, "I got it covered."

Who. Is. She?

Did she shove him onto the bed and straddle his lap? She did! And the way he looked at her afterward was intoxicating. Holy shit. He was going to her head like champagne. Fizzing, popping, bubbly champagne.

He has her so keyed up that she's yet to even think about her much less fit body being exposed so openly. All the lights in his room are still on, for crying out loud. He can plainly see everything she both loves and hates about her own body and she just...doesn't give a single fuck.

Once again: Who. Is. She?

Certainly not the same Lucy Preston who's one attempt at being bold with Jonas resulted in a fumbled and awkward university office quickie. That was one fantasy that she never should have tried to live out. Not the same Lucy who'd avoided letting Noah kiss her just a few weeks back. She'd turned her head so fast to ensure his lips caught her cheek that she heard a pop in her neck.

Is it Wyatt? Is this just who she is with him? Or is he unlocking the person she's always been meant to become? Self assured, confident, asking for exactly what she wants…

She gasps and arches under him as his mouth surrounds a pebbled nipple. _Oh, shit. _She wraps her legs around him as he continues to do some truly _outstanding _work. Her hands trail up and down the sinews of his back, letting her nails barely scrape his skin. He has one of his hands palming the breast his mouth isn't worshipping and the other hand toying with the waistband of her lace boy briefs.

If he's wanting to work her into a frenzy then he's succeeded. She's there.

Her hands frame his face and then drag his lips back to hers for more drugging kisses. She already knows that she will never get enough of him. Which will only be a problem when the weekend ends and she has to go home without him.

The hand that was idly running along the waistband of her underwear finally dips into them. His kiss swallows the wanton whimper that slips from her throat. His fingers swirl around the nerve center between her legs. The one that's been aching for him since the first time he smiled at her the night before.

Suddenly, a finger dips inside her - slowly like he _wants_ to torture her.

He removes that finger and then replaces it with _two_ fingers. If he wasn't on top of her she would have vaulted off the bed, she's sure of it. She thought his hands were big and his fingers long when they were splayed across her back, but now she _knows_ they are.

_Oh. My. God._

His tongue in her mouth mimics the pace of his fingers as they thrust in and out. God damn, she's already coming apart. She feels her muscles clenching and the pressure building, lifting her higher than she's ever been. He's intentionally taking her there before him. Who the _hell_ is this guy? Is this how sex is supposed to be? If so then she's been choosing the wrong partners her entire life.

His thumb strays while he's thrusting and brushes the most sensitive part of her, and then she's _gone._ She breaks away from his kisses to cry out, again unusual for her. She's never been known for being loud, and the cry that's ripped from her throat would definitely be classified as _loud._ She's breathing heavily and still fluttering around his fingers when the fog of release clears, leaving his cocky smirk floating in front of her face.

She laughs and shoves his shoulder playfully. "Don't look so happy with yourself, Logan."

"Can I help it if I like showing you a good time?" He asks as the smirk widens into a grin and his lips descend on hers again.

She blindly grabs for one of the foil wrappers carelessly strewn on the bed next to them and then interrupts the kiss by slapping it against his chest and leaving her hand against his hard muscles.

"Get those boxers off. This time you're joining me."

He lifts some of his weight off of her and looks at her with both awe and amusement. "Yes, ma'am."

Despite the chills that spread across her arms she glares at him. "You really have to stop calling me ma'am."

"Even in bed?" He asks with a grin, knowing full and well what effect he has on her.

She stops and thinks about it for a moment before feigning exasperation. "Fine, I'll allow it in bed."

"Bossy," he mumbles against her lips as she pulls him in for another kiss.

He stands just long enough to get his boxers off and roll the condom on. As she watches him with eager eyes, she slips out of her lacy underwear and discards it with the rest of her clothes. She is finally going to have him right where she wants him. She knows, logically, that things with Wyatt are sudden, but it doesn't feel sudden

It feels like they should have done this _years_ ago, which makes no sense because she just met him yesterday. But then, in the context of her life, this entire weekend makes no sense. This isn't her. She doesn't do things like this. _Ever._

But here she is in a strangers hotel room with absolutely zero apprehensions. She knows, with certainty, that's she's exactly where she's supposed to be.

It must be that thought that has her pushing him back onto the mattress and straddling him again because she doesn't even register doing it until she's lining him up against her and sinking down on top of him. He curses and grips her hips so tight she's positive she'll be bruised in the morning.

"Don't...don't move for a second," he grits out. "_Fuck_. You're perfect."

No, _he's _perfect. He fills all the emptiness like no one else ever has, and sitting still while he's inside of her is a true test of her self control. Feeling the connection and not doing anything with it is _maddening._ She takes a deep breath and then, being sure not to move anything below her waist, leans down bring her lips to his.

She kisses him slowly, searchingly, with her tongue ambling over his. Her intent is to slow him down, to help him. She's not sure how long they kissed like that. Slow, soft, gentle. But it must have worked. He must have regained all the control over himself that he needs because _he_ moves first.

He thrusts upward, very slightly, and she feels it like a shock to her entire system.

"Shit," she whispers, jerking back from the kiss as if she's been burned. He barely moved at all. If that was a small movement then what—

He thrusts again, harder, and her moan is instantaneous. She doesn't believe it's hers, at first. No sound she's ever made sounded that..._wanton_. Needy. _Desperate_. She sits up and then leans back to rest her hands on his thighs. She circles her hips and she swears he growls at her. Or did she imagine that? She circles one more time and then shifts their angle, trying to make sure he hits _just _the right spot.

She hisses quietly when she finds it, trying to breath through a wave of pleasure so she doesn't lose it completely.

"Oh my god, Wyatt." She doesn't even really know what she's trying to communicate to him, but he seems to understand anyway.

His voice is ragged when he replies. "_I know_."

And then their off, moving together. In sync at nearly every moment. She feels the pressure building again like a kettle that's about to boil. Just as their movements start to become erratic, Wyatt flips her under him and smothers her mouth with his. His thrusts deepen and, all at once, everything feels more urgent. They're well on their way to release and there's no way to stop it or slow it down.

His hand dips into the small triangle of dark curls between her thighs and that's all she can take. She has no idea if she made any sort of noise or if he fell over the edge with her. In fact for a moment, she thinks she may not be completely present in her own body. There are storm clouds in Wyatt's eyes and she feels pouring rain over every inch of her skin — and _lightning_. Where the rain cools, the lightning strike sets her on fire from her the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Every nerve ending is charged and every muscle is tensed.

Her chest heaves as she comes back to herself and her eyes flutter open. Her arms and legs feel like jelly, sluggish and numb. Wyatt has collapsed on top of her, slick with sweat and breathing just as hard as she is. Her hands find the hair at the nape of his neck, one goes up into his hair and the other runs over the slackened muscles on his back.

_What. Just. Happened._

"Holy shit, Luce." His voice is hoarse and she's confident he has no idea that he just shortened her name.

She likes it, actually. A lot. The sound of her shortened name on his lips sends a shiver up her spine. It feels _right_ from him. He's the only person to ever call her that aside from Amy. She decides she'll let him get away with it if he wants.

A sleepy grin forms on her face as she repeats his words from earlier. "_I know._"

He drops a gentle kiss to her shoulder before he responds. "As soon as I'm recovered, we're doing that again."

She laughs loudly and presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. "I'm counting on it. It's not like either of us have anywhere to be tomorrow."

He rolls, still holding her tight against him, until they're both laying on their sides facing each other. He presses his lips to hers for a deep endulgent kiss that leaves her heart slamming against her ribs and her breathing even more erratic than it was before. He ends it with his forehead pressed against hers and his blue eyes searing a hole straight through her.

"That was..._amazing_."

She knows she blushes. She can feel the heat in her cheeks. She's not sure why she's embarrassed _now_ when not even an hour ago she was the one dumping condoms onto his mattress with wild abandon. She was more forward than she'd ever been and barely gave it a second thought, but having him meet her eyes and tell her exactly how he felt about it all made her shy?

He leans onto his back and takes her with him, pressing his lips to her forehead as he goes. "Don't think I didn't notice how you brushed off a compliment earlier, Professor."

Her brow furrows in confusion for a moment until he continues.

"You're beautiful. You know that, don't you?"

Oh, _that._

"I...I don't know," she admits honestly. "It's not that I don't know, exactly, it's just that — that's not what I see when I look in the mirror. I mean, I'm sure I'm not hideous, but beyond that...well, I've always been a nerd. It's like Amy said. Huge ass nerd." She chuckles self consciously and tries to shrug despite having his arms wrapped around her. "Plus, I don't think very many people have ever called me that to my face so it's a little hard to believe."

He scoffs at that and then places a hand under her chin to tilt her eyes so they meet his. "We'll work on that," he says.

And then he kisses her so sweetly that tears form in her eyes. She doesn't understand why, which is happening a lot with him. He's causing too many emotions for her to really process. But between his compliment, his shock at her not believing it, and his determination to make sure she knows he means it — well, the tears just _come._

"Be right back," he mumbles against her lips before he pulls away from her and then out of the bed. He ducks into the bathroom and she hears the toilet flush and the sink turn on.

It's the first moment alone she's had since before he showed up at her hotel room door. She waits for the regret and the dread. It has to come doesn't it? She can count what she knows about him on one hand. This is irresponsible, irrational, impulsive…

All the things her mother worked hard to prevent her from ever being. She taught her to value her head above her heart. To act logically, not emotionally. But that had never really been _Lucy_. She _is_ emotional. She cares about people and she's sensitive to their needs. Maybe not so sensitive to her own needs all the time. That's a problem she doesn't really know how to solve. She rarely gives herself a moment to take stock of how she feels, typically it's because she doesn't like what she finds.

But right now, tangled in the rumpled sheets on Wyatt's hotel room bed, she searches her own emotions and finds nothing but _satisfaction_ and _contentment_. There's also a strange feeling of _security_, which should be impossible. She and Wyatt are anything but secure.

Despite being satisfied and content, she realizes that whatever this is between them can't end well. Not when they only have one weekend.

One weekend will _never_ be enough.


	4. 3 Alone Together

Chapter Three: Alone Together

* * *

"We should be alone together.

Kissing over there in the corner,

Where nobody else can see.

Keeping each other company.

We should be alone together.

Leaning up against my car door,

Parked outside on the street,

Where it's just you and me.

We should be alone together."

-"Alone Together" by Dan & Shay

* * *

An alarm blares somewhere to her right and she groans before burrowing herself deeper in the pillows. She's on vacation. Why the hell is there an alarm?

The pillows shift and let out a huff. For a moment she's surprised and then she remembers.

Wyatt. Dinner. The beach. And then…

Her cheeks flush along with the rest of her body as the heady rush returns. His hands were everywhere, his _lips_ were everywhere. The entire night was a mixture of reverence and primal need that she's never experienced before. How can something be both tender and rough at the same time? It didn't seem possible and yet…

She feels his lips brush against her forehead and his hand idly skim back and forth across her bare hip. Goosebumps spring up all over her body. There it is again, that shimmer of magnetism. It pulls her hand to his chest and then up to the chiseled line of his jaw. Like she has no choice. From the minute she first placed her hands on his shoulders that magnetism has been there. It's as if that first touch was a gateway to an addiction she has no hope of resisting.

The stubble underneath her palms prickles. That's a new texture for her and she loves it.

"Good morning," he greets. His voice sounds gravelly with sleep. She thinks it matches the calluses on his hands perfectly.

"Good morning," she replies with a grin she can't seem to stop.

"Didn't mean to wake you," he tells her. "I went running yesterday morning. Left the alarm by mistake."

She quirks a brow at him. "You went running this early in the morning while on vacation?"

He chuckles and nods before somehow managing to pull her even closer. "Morning person," he says, as if it explains everything. "Army kind of drills it into you."

Her hand pauses as it reaches his hair and she blinks at him in surprise. "Army?"

"Ex-army," he informs her with a smirk. "Used to be special forces."

Well that explains the calluses and the scars she thought she saw on his lower abdomen. "Wow."

She's not sure what else to say. Does she thank him for his service or would that be too much? Does she say anything at all? Would it be cheesy to tell him that she thinks that means he must be braver than she could ever be? A silence falls over them before he takes pity on her and chuckles softly.

"You don't have to say anything," he tells her, as if he's read her mind. "It was my job and now it's not. It taught me a lot and I enjoyed it." He shrugs casually, as if he's just told her he used to be a barista.

"I don't think I could ever do something like that," she admits as she avoids his gaze. "Bravery's not exactly my strong suit."

"For me, it was less about being brave and more about doing some good. Making sure the people I care about could be proud of me." She feels his hand under her chin and then it slides back into the hair at the nape of her neck. Form his tone, she gets the feeling he means one specific person. "Those things kind of overruled everything else. I think you'll find you can do a lot of things when you've got something truly important on the line."

"Makes sense," she agrees. "It's the judgement that something else is greater than fear."

His fingers knead the muscles on the back of her neck as he speaks. "Exactly."

She chuckles sardonically and slides a hand across the hard lines of his chest. "When it comes to fight or flight, I tend to lean more toward flight. You, though, are definitely a fighter."

"Never really had any other choice," he confesses. "I haven't quite learned the art of walking away."

She meets his eyes again and grins sheepishly at him. "This probably isn't very good morning after a vacation hook up talk, is it?"

He laughs and tugs playfully on a strand of her hair. "Probably not, but I don't mind. I have no problem with actually talking to you, Lucy. In fact, I think I prefer it to whatever small talk most people normally do."

"To be fair, I have no idea what most people normally do in this situation," she says with an embarrassed blush. "My sister's the one who meets guys on vacation. Not me. I don't normally do this kind of thing."

"I haven't been on a vacation in four years, so that should tell you all you need to know about how often I do this," Wyatt answers with a rumbling laugh. "Full disclosure, I haven't even been on a date in about two months."

Again, she's surprised. A disbelieving grin over takes her face and she shakes her head at him. "No way. I call bullshit."

The mirth on his face causes his smile and his eyes to brighten. "You don't believe me?"

"When you're armed with those blue eyes and that smirk? No, I don't," she replies. "Do _not_ let that go to your head."

"Too late," he says with a grin a split second before he dips his head to the curve of her neck. He places a kiss there and then speaks as he moves downward. "It's not that—" kiss to the ridge of her collar bone. "I haven't had my chances—" kiss to the center of her sternum. "But no one I've met—" kiss to the valley between her breasts. "Felt quite right." He settles himself on top of her and rests his chin on her stomach before he flashes her a soft cooked smile. "Until you."

Her breath catches in her throat and she lets her fingers card gently through his hair. It feels like a big confession. Bigger than he probably realizes. She can relate but she would never admit it out loud. Not after two days. She has terrible luck and anything could go wrong. Besides, they're on vacation. What are the chances of this going any further once this weekend ends?

"Glad to be of service," she says with a dry chuckle. If he notices her hesitance at all he doesn't let it show.

"You and your sister have any plans today?" He asks hopefully.

"Not that I'm aware of," she responds with a curious glance. "Why?"

"Just wondering how much time we have," he replies as she feels his hands trail down the length of her hips and legs.

"How much time do you want?" She asks him with a sultry smirk. "Maybe I can squeeze you in amongst my other vacation hunks."

He laughs before he presses his lips to the curve of her stomach. "I think your other vacation hunks are gonna have to wait." He moves a little lower, grips the underside of her right knee, and then gently nudges his shoulder underneath it.

Her breathing quickens once she realizes what he's up to. She forces herself to swallow down a whimper as he kisses the inside of her right thigh. Oh, god, she isn't going to survive this vacation. Not if his touch and his kisses leave her feeling like _this_.

* * *

He didn't take his morning run because he didn't need to. He'd only taken a run the day before because Lucy Preston had kissed the daylights out of him and he had no idea how to handle it. Today, he woke up with Lucy Preston in his arms and the sexual tension from yesterday soothed. Therefore, no need to go on a run.

Instead, they'd used up a few more of those condoms Amy had so generously snuck into Lucy's clutch.

They've just finished up with condom number five when a chime sounds from somewhere in the room.

"That's my phone," Lucy says while she's trying to catch her breath. "I dumped it out of my bag last night and now I have no idea where it is."

Wyatt laughs and tries to listen for the chime. "You were in quite the rush to get to those condoms. It was hot, actually."

He pinpoints the sound to just below his side of the bed and reaches to the floor. He's unable to see under the bed so he pats around until he feels a solid cool block of metal against his hand. As he lifts it from the floor it chimes and vibrates again. He hands it over. Lucy glances at the screen for all of a second before she's rolling her eyes and getting out of bed.

"Anything wrong?" He asks as he watches her gather her clothes.

"No, just my sister demanding our presence at breakfast." She waves the phone at him to remind him of the text.

"Demanding?" He asks with a grin.

"And I quote, 'if you two don't meet me for breakfast in half an hour I'm going to assume he murdered you and call the cops. Diner. Downstairs. Thirty minutes' and she follows all of that with a smirking emoji." Lucy grins and rolls her eyes again. "Brat."

"Half an hour, huh? There's one condom left," he says as he holds up the packet with a smirk. "Think we can use it in the next half hour?"

Lucy returns his smirk with her own and then saunters toward the bathroom, curling her finger at him as she goes. "Challenge accepted. The bathroom's plenty big enough for two." She pauses at the door with a hand on her hip. "You coming?"

He doesn't think he's ever gotten out of bed faster.

They're ten minutes late to breakfast, but he's relieved to note that Amy did not actually call the cops.

"I had 911 pre-entered," she tells them as they approach the table. "You had five more minutes and then I was pressing call."

Lucy lets out a (cute) disbelieving snort and slides into the booth first, he follows closely behind. "As you can see, I'm alive."

"And judging by the glow, _very very well_," Amy says as she wags her eyebrows at them. "Don't worry, I have more condoms in the room, if you need them."

"Amy!" Lucy admonishes while glancing around at the other families in the restaurant.

"Oh, please, these kids have to learn sometime," Amy says with a dismissive shrug.

"Anybody ever tell you two that it's hard to believe you're sisters?" Wyatt asks them with a chuckle.

"All the time," they say in unison.

"So," Amy says. "This is a new experience for us. Me staying in our room and you staying in someone else's."

Lucy sighs tiredly and glares at her younger sister before vaguely motioning to Wyatt.

"What? He was at the bar the other night. He knows. I'm the slut and you're the prude. We've established this," Amy tells her with a scoff.

He snorts and then flashes Amy a smug grin. "Yeah, I don't think you know your sister as well as you think you do."

"Oh my god," Lucy says in embarrassment as she hides behind her menu and sinks down into the booth. "Please, both of you stop."

Her face is red all the way up to her hairline but one peek behind the menu exposes the grin on her face. She's not as shy about it as she wants them to believe.

"Oh, Wyatt Logan," Amy says as she peruses her menu with a chuckle. "I think I'm going to like you very much. Very much indeed."

Reluctantly, Wyatt agrees to part ways with Lucy after breakfast. She wants to change clothes. They agree to meet on the beach in an hour. Which means Wyatt has an hour alone to think.

What are they doing? Is it a temporary situation or does Lucy want more than that? Maybe that should have been discussed _before_ they slept together and not after? Or maybe he's overthinking it? Maybe they don't have to have it all figured out right away. He should probably just enjoy the moment. Lucy was right last night. A vacation is supposed to be _fun_. He refuses to have the fun ruined by unanswerable questions like whether or not he will see her again once they leave South Carolina.

Right now, he just knows that he hasn't been this happy or felt this good in _years_, and he's starting to figure out that it might be the company and not the vacation. He plans to keep that company by his side for the rest of the trip, if he can.

He finds her on the beach, an hour later, already tucked under an umbrella. Probably to save her creamy fair complexion from the harsh rays of the summer sun. She's laying on a beach lounger with one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. In her hand is a paperback book of some kind and perched on her nose are a pair of wayfarer style sunglasses.

Yesterday, she'd worn a black bikini but today she's in a red two piece with a halter style top, tied around her neck, and classic bikini cut bottoms tied on each hip. Having enjoyed those curves up close and personal didn't make the sight of her in a bathing suit any less appealing than it was yesterday.

Under the umbrella next to her was another lounger, saved with a beach towel. He smirks to himself and decides to tease her a little.

"Excuse me, _ma'am, _the beach chairs are first come, first serve. No saving allowed," he says in a loud and stern voice.

She jumps practically out of her skin, and nearly sends her book sailing into the sand as she turns to face him. "I'm so sorry! But he'll be right—" she stops herself short once she sees him and huffs irritably. "Sure, real funny." She rolls her eyes and then points to the clutch from last night that sits on top of her towel. "Keep going, see if I let you see what's inside my bag _tonight_."

"Point taken," he says with a wince before he steps around her to sit in the empty lounger. "You win. If I'm on my best behavior can we break open the clutch a little earlier than _tonight_?"

She pulls her sunglasses down her nose to pin his blue eyes with her brown ones in a pleased but disbelieving look. "It's barely been two hours since we left your room! You're insatiable!"

"So are you," he fires back with a grin. "You want more just as badly as I do."

Her eyes scan the length of him before a full smile blooms on her face and hunger fills her eyes. "Maybe," she says with an over exaggerated shrug. "Maybe not."

"Where's your sister?" He asks as he glances around the beach.

"She and Frosted Tips went to go play minigolf I think," Lucy replies absently as she turns back to her book.

"So, she's sticking with Gavin, huh? Disappointing."

Lucy laughs as she turns the page. "He looks like he's trying to be in a boyband from the nineties. But aside from that, he seems nice. Not, historically, her _worst_ vacation fling. Trust me."

Vacation fling. Is that what he is to Lucy? A vacation fling? As much as he enjoys her, that thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He doesn't want to be _just_ a vacation fling.

No, not thinking about it. Have fun, Wyatt. Just have fun.

"Put that book down and let's go swim," he tells her.

She quirks a brow at him but doesn't look away from her book. "Now who's being bossy?"

"You can _read_ anytime, Luce. You only have the east coast sun and sand for one weekend." What he wanted to say was that he may only have _her_ for one weekend, but he thought better of it.

She sets her book aside and then turns on her side to face him. "You're right. I can resume being a bookworm when I get home. I would much rather spend time with you."

He meets her eyes with a bright smile. "That's what I was hoping you'd say. I have an idea."

"Am I going to like this idea?" She asks him skeptically.

"Only one way to find out," he replies as he stands and then holds out a hand for her to join him.

The last few times he's offered his hand to her she's paused to think about it but this time she doesn't. Her hand automatically goes to his, with their fingers threaded together. They walk a little ways down the beach to where he'd seen a small shack yesterday morning and a half hour later they return to their spot with two rented surfboards.

"I don't know about this, Wyatt. I am a colossal klutz," Lucy warns him. "I mean, _the biggest_."

He looks between her and the waves. The waves are small and the current's weak. It's the perfect day for a lesson. "You won't know until you try, Professor."

He takes her lighter foam top board and drops it onto the sand and then pulls her toward it.

"Practice on the beach first," he says. "Lay down on the board."

She gives him a wary glance but does as he says. "This feels silly."

His eyes sweep over his view of her backside and he grins. "Might feel silly but it gives me a _great_ view."

She laughs and then glares at him over her shoulder. "You're shameless."

"And don't you forget it," he replies with a wink. "Okay, so you paddle out in front of the wave." He waits until she does some sort half assed attempt to mimic paddling before he continues. "And then you use your arms on the board to pop up. Like a push up. When you pop up put your left foot in front to balance your weight."

He fights off a chuckle as she clumsily pushes up into a posture with her hands on the board and her left foot in front, like a crouch. "Okay, good. Count two seconds and then stand."

She does what he says but she looks entirely too stiff. He steps up behind her with a grin and places his hands on her hips.

"Loosen up a little," he says softly. The minute his fingers brush her hips, it's as if her muscles melt under his touch. He knows it's not because he told her to loosen up. She's looking down at her feet on the board so he takes one hand and tilts her chin up so that she's looking at the water. "You surf where you look. If you look down you'll fall. You want to look out, not down."

She chuckles and rolls her eyes. "Pretty sure I'm going to fall anyway. No matter where I look."

"Fake it till you make it, Luce," he tells her with with an encouraging squeeze of her hips. "If you want to slow down, lean back. If you want to go faster, lean forward."

He stops talking and after a beat of silence she stares at him in shock. "Wait, that's it? That's the lesson?"

He laughs and nods. "There's not much to explain. The hard part is _doing_ it."

"Oh god, fine. Let's get this embarrassment over with," she requests as she steps off the board and picks it up. She turns and sighs at him. "I'm only doing this for you, you know. No one else could convince me to try this."

He responds by cupping her cheek in his hand and pulling her in for a lingering kiss. When he pulls away Lucy lets out another sigh but this one sounds far away and dreamy. He chuckles and places a quick kiss to her forehead before he backs up and retrieves his own board from where he stuck it in the sand.

"After you, ma'am," Wyatt says as he sweeps a hand toward the water.

"You know, kissing me is not going to work every time you want something," she says stubbornly with a blush.

He grins and nods but chooses to say nothing as she jogs off toward the water. He knows it's too early to think this — or maybe just to admit it outloud — but her stubborn glare and flushed cheeks don't give him much choice. The thought floats to the surface of his brain unbidden. He remembers Jessica had asked him not long ago why it was taking him so long to find the next Mrs. Logan, and he thinks…

He thinks he can probably tell Jess he found her. He thinks, with conviction, that he's going to marry Lucy Preston someday. Who knows when, exactly, but — _someday_.

* * *

Surfing wasn't as horrible as she thought it would be. Yes, she fell _a lot_ early on but, once she figured out how best to balance her weight and remembered to _not_ look down at her feet, she managed to catch a handful of waves. Her arms were done for the day. Too much paddling against the current. _Ow_.

Wyatt, though, looked barely winded at all (the jerk). They alternated waves so that he could watch her and offer tips and so she could watch him and learn. Unfortunately, she spent most of his turn admiring his butt and naked back — and also wondering if there was anything he _couldn't_ do.

She couldn't help but feel he was _way_ out of her league. In high school he was probably the bad boy that had all the ladies wrapped around his finger while she had been the nerd who skipped her prom for an academic quiz bowl tournament (after the boy she'd been dating dumped her and took someone _else _instead.) Logically, she understands this isn't high school but somehow the image of their vastly different social circles still leaves her feeling self conscious.

Surely, he can and will find someone more glamorous than her.

Well, fine, if that's the case then at the very least she's going to make sure he will never forget her. Move on from her? Fine. But forget? _Never_.

They surfed for the entire afternoon and now they're on separate missions. Wyatt is taking the boards back and Lucy is hunting down lunch. She orders to-go from the diner at the resort and tracks down the frozen lemonade cart she's seen being wheeled up and down the beach. When Wyatt arrives back at their umbrella and loungers, Lucy has lunch spread out and waiting. Burgers, fries, a couple of waters, beers, and then a frozen lemonade to share.

Instead of sitting on his own lounger, though, Wyatt picks up his to-go container and beer before moving to sit on the foot of hers.

"So," he asks, somewhat nervously. "What's the verdict on surfing?"

"Not bad," she answers with small smirk. "But between that and last night my muscles seem to hate me."

"Last night...and this morning. Don't forget this morning," he amends with a confident grin.

"Oh, trust me, I won't be forgetting that anytime soon," Lucy tells him with a secretive smile before she takes a sip of her beer.

They finish lunch with more flirting and teasing. Everything with Wyatt so far has come so easily. Granted, she doesn't know much about him but he's easy to talk to and flirt with and, mysteriously, he's able to read her emotions sometimes better than herself. It's occasionally like he's reading her mind. It should freak her out but it doesn't. She finds it oddly comforting.

"Now what?" She asks him as he comes back from disposing of their trash. She cracks open the frozen lemonade, letting it sit while they ate lunch softened it up just enough, and digs in with their one plastic spoon.

He takes back his spot on the foot of her lounger and pulls her legs across his lap. He takes the frozen lemonade from her for a bite of his own, using the same spoon. She would normally hate this, but yet again she feels differently about it with Wyatt.

Everything is different with Wyatt. _She's different_ with Wyatt.

"Well," he says after he swallows and then hands the lemonade back to her. "We've had our early dinner, we've had drinks, and dessert." He nods toward her as she eats more of the lemonade. "I say we call it a night."

She laughs loudly and shakes her head at him. "It's not even five o'clock, Wyatt. I don't think five in the afternoon even qualifies as _night_."

He leans toward her so that his face is only a few inches from hers and his eyes take on that same heartfelt look they had when he asked her to dinner the day before. She knows whatever comes next is serious.

"I check out tomorrow, and then head straight for the airport. I'd rather not share you anymore this weekend."

Her breath catches in her throat and she nods. "We check out tomorrow too." She bites her bottom lip and then closes the distance to steal a quick kiss. It tastes like lemonade and is oddly cold. Her mind imagines that cold mouth grazing her stomach. It's no use to resist after that. He's won already. "Okay," she agrees.

The smile he gives her is so blinding that she almost reaches for her sunglasses as a reflex. He steals the lemonade back for another bite and, like he knows exactly what she's been thinking, dips down to place a chilly kiss to the curve of her neck. "We should buy another one of these on the way back to resort," he whispers as he trails kisses up her jawline and to the shell of her ear. "Goosebumps look good on you."

She bites her lip to keep from moaning. He should not be able to get her this worked up, this quickly. "God, yes. Let's do that."

He chuckles against her ear and then presses another frozen kiss to her hair. "I'm already hating the idea of leaving."

"Me too," she admits. She turns to catch his eye and then runs a hand along the side of his face. "But we don't have to think about that right now. We're still here. Together." She pauses and then realizes that if she wants to dedicate the whole night to Wyatt then there are a few things she needs to do first. "I'll be up to your room in an hour. I need to pack up so I'm not rushing tomorrow morning. Plus, I'd like to wash the sand out of my hair."

"I think I can allow that."

She quirks a brow at him with a playful glare. "You'll _allow _it?"

"Joke!" He yells desperately. "Just a really _bad_ joke!"

She laughs at his panicked expression and then covers his lips with hers in a chaste kiss. "It better be. See you in an hour." She pulls back from him, waits a beat and then says shyly. "Don't forget the frozen lemonades on your way back to your room."

He gives her a steamy glance and chuckles lowly. "No chance of that, Professor. They'll be waiting for you in the mini-fridge. _Believe_ me."

Oh, god. He's going to kill her.

She packs up her beach bag and walks away from him. She only looks back twice. If not for what little remains of her self control she would have never looked away from him.

She finds Amy watching TV when she arrives back in their room.

"Ah, the prodigal sister returns. Did Hottie McHotHot wear you out finally?" She asks as she flips channels.

"Um, no," Lucy says with a bashful grin. "I'm just here to pack up my stuff before I go meet him upstairs."

Amy nods and then reaches in the nightstand drawer. "I bought you something," she says with a smirk as she tosses a box at Lucy.

Lucy catches it and blushes as she realizes it's a box of condoms. "Thanks," she mutters.

"Thought you should have your own instead of stealing from my stash. Besides, if you guys used up six in one night you're gonna need more than what I have left," Amy tells her as she wags her eyebrows at Lucy suggestively. "So, what happens after tomorrow?" Her younger sister asks eagerly. "Between you and him?"

Lucy busies herself with repacking her suitcase and shrugs. "I don't know. We haven't talked about it. But I would imagine, he goes back to his life and I go back to mine and that's all there is to it."

Amy's eyes widen and her mouth drops open in shock. "What?"

"It's a vacation hook up," Lucy tells her. "Isn't that how it's supposed to go?"

"Oh, my sweet innocent sister," Amy says as she blinks at her in surprise. "Gavin and I are a vacation hook up. You and Wyatt are _not_. Not with the way that dude looks at you."

"You're talking nonsense."

Amy gives her a dumbfounded look and blinks in silence for a moment. "You really don't see it?"

"See what?"

"Lucy, that man looks at you like he wants to devour you. That is not the look of a man who wants a _fling_. Trust me, I've had enough of them to know," Amy insists. "He doesn't want a fling. He wants _you_."

"That's ridiculous. He can't want _me_," Lucy replies with a shake of her head.

"Why not? You're amazing," Amy says honestly.

"You have to say because you're my baby sister. But, come on, _have you seen him?_ He's an Adonis and I'm...a history professor. That can't be real." She folds her clothes and continues to pack up everything she won't need while hoping desperately that Amy will drop it. She doesn't need Amy getting her hopes up. She's worked very hard to keep her expectations at realistic levels.

"Being your sister doesn't obligate me to compliment you _at all_. If anything that's a reason for me to be even cattier than other people," Amy points out. "So, if I say you're amazing then you, Lucy Preston, are _fucking amazing_ and you need to accept it. And what is this really about? It can't be about Wyatt because I've seen him with you and even if he hasn't said it he's _clearly_ crazy about you." Amy looks thoughtful for a moment before something dawns in her eyes and she continues. "Is this because that bastard Jonas cheated on you? Lucy, just because he's a dick and can't keep it in his pants doesn't mean you're not attractive. I mean, you know that, right? His being a cheating asshole was about _him_, not you."

She sighs and slams her suitcase closed. "Can we not do this now?"

"Lucy—"

"If it wasn't me then what was it?" Lucy asks her with a scowl. She's irritated now and dwelling on something she tried her hardest to keep to herself. _Of course, _Amy sees through her. She always does.

"I don't know, Lucy, but you're stunning and kind and patient and probably the most caring person I have ever met with a _scary_ big brain," Amy crosses the room to her and wraps her arms around her from behind. "Jonas must have been certifiable to allow himself to fuck it up. You're a catch and Jonas can go screw himself. Don't let that affect what you could have with Wyatt. You deserve to be happy and, at least so far, you're the happiest I've ever seen you with _him_. Don't brush it off because you think he might turn out like your bastard of an ex-boyfriend. He doesn't deserve that and neither do you," Amy takes a breath and Lucy can tell she's almost crying. "Now turn around and hug me, bitch."

Lucy laughs despite the tears in her eyes and turns in Amy's arms. Amy hugs her tightly and Lucy responds in kind. It's a bone crushing hug like only they can deliver. "What did I do to deserve a sister as wonderful as you?"

"I don't know, but you're totally right. I'm a goddamn delight."

They both break out into a fit of giggles but never once let go.

"I love you, sis," Amy tells her.

"Love you too, brat."

* * *

Lucy shows up exactly on time with her suitcase in hand and her carry on strap on her shoulder. Though, he can't help but notice her brightness from the beach earlier has dimmed slightly.

"You okay?" He asks in concern.

She nods and smiles weakly at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Is it okay if I keep my stuff here? I thought it would be easier if I just meet Amy for check out from your room."

He decides to let it go for the moment. If she wants to tell him then hopefully she will. He opens the door wider and motions her inside. "Honestly, I'd prefer it. It means more time with you in the morning and that's really all I care about."

She tucks her bags into the far corner of the room and then comes back to him. She wraps her arms around him and tucks her face into his neck. His arms immediately go around her and hold her closer. Something is for sure wrong. He knows it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks worriedly.

He feels her press her lips to his skin and then he hears her take a deep calming breath.

"It's nothing," she says dismissively. "Just...need a minute."

He nods but the worry doesn't dissipate. He rests his chin on her head and rubs soothing circles on her back. "It doesn't seem like nothing," he replies.

"It's too much of a downer for vacation," she tells him, though the words are muffled against his throat.

He chuckles at that and leads them over to the bed to sit. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I just...I wish I could help."

She lifts her head and meets his eyes with a gentle smile. "You are helping. This is perfect. And, really, it's not a big deal. It's just a..._mood_. I'll be fine in a minute or two. Thank you for the offer to talk, though. That means a lot."

"Do I need to kick anyone's ass or…"

She laughs and then does a combination of a nod and a head shake. "Maybe. I'll get back to you on that. Although, if I do decide an ass kicking is necessary Amy has first dibs."

"That seems fair," Wyatt agrees. "We'll start a line."

She laughs again and only then does his concern ease. She'll be fine. Whatever it is hasn't done any lasting damage. At least he doesn't _think_ so.

"Alright," she says as she straightens her posture and lifts her chin with a mischievous grin. "_Where_ are those frozen lemonades?"

His guffaw comes deep from his belly and might be the first time he's laughed that hard in _years_. Can she blame him if he pulls her in for an immediate kiss that causes them both to forget about the lemonades? She's something else. Self conscious yet confident. Assured yet unsure. Bright and dark. Playful and somber. She keeps him on his toes and completely intrigued. She's authentic and, he knows, that's hard to find.

They don't need the lemonades to keep it interesting. Though, eventually, they'll get around to them. He's sure.

* * *

They did get around to them. He felt bad for housekeeping, but not about the mess itself. No, that was _totally worth it_.

The hotel phone on the nightstand is ringing, waking Wyatt from a rare blissful sleep. He answers with a grunt and a much too chipper woman informs him she's completing the wake up call he requested the day before. He has two hours till check out.

Lucy grumbles in her sleep and hides her face further in his chest.

He chuckles as he hangs up and kisses the top of her head. "Time to wake up, ma'am. Breakfast, showers, check out."

"Nope," she says groggily. "Today is cancelled. You kept me up too late."

He smirks and squeezes her ass under the covers. "You didn't have a problem with that a few hours ago."

"I was high on sex and frozen lemonade. My judgement was grossly impaired."

"Uh huh," he says with a playful eye roll. "Sure."

He slides further under the covers so that his face is level with hers and snakes a hand around the back of her neck. He pulls her lips to his and waits for her to respond. It doesn't take long. Her arms wrap around his middle, her legs tangle in his, and her teeth nip at his bottom lip.

He leans back with a smirk. "You are definitely awake."

She shakes her head at him before she chases his movements. "Don't talk. Just kiss."

Her lips find his again and her hands move from his back, over his chest, they caress his jawline, and then move into his hair. Those hands are soft as silk and offer him an unrealistic amount of comfort. It's like her care for him seeps into his bloodstream through the palms of her hands. There's no way to actually explain it that does it justice. Safe to say, he doesn't manage to get out of bed for another hour at least and two more condom wrappers find their way to the waste bin.

Jesus, he needs to wake up like this every morning.

Then again, he would probably never make it to work on time if he had Lucy Preston in his bed every morning. She's too much temptation for him.

By the time he and Lucy finally shower, packing is less packing and more haphazardly throwing things in his suitcase. They're rushing and running late. Ten minutes past check out. Lucy hands him the room key card envelope he left on the entertainment center and it isn't until he turns it in that he notices one has mysteriously gone missing. The resort doesn't care and neither does he, but he suspects he knows who took it.

"Slow start this morning, you two?" Amy asks them with a smirk as they all start to pile in the girls' rental car.

"His fault," Lucy says over her shoulder with a wink.

He feigns offense and pokes her side. "Oh no you don't. I'm not letting you blame this on me. I tried to get you _out _of bed. _You_ are the one who kept me _in _it."

"A likely story, but who is Amy more apt to believe? Her prudish sister or the rake who seduced me at a tiki bar?"

"Rake?" Wyatt asks with a snorting laugh. "Me? And _you _came on to _me_! Or have you forgotten about that, babydoll?"

"Oh my god," Amy says with a halfhearted huff. "Stop flirting and get in the car. We have flights to catch."

Amy might as well have splashed freezing cold water on them. The reminder of their flights to separate cities has the exactly same effect. Lucy sits in the front passenger seat and Wyatt sits in the back. It's a small amount of distance but, given that this vacation is about to end, he _hates _it.

The airport is chaotic and security is slow. By the time they make it through, boarding has already started for Amy and Lucy's flight. This doesn't feel right. It's much too sudden. It doesn't feel like a see you later or a goodbye. It's just flat out irritating and incomplete.

She throws herself at him in a hug that nearly knocks the wind out of him and then kisses him senseless. He matches her kiss for kiss and doesn't give a damn who sees. Everything else may be rushed, but he's not rushing _this_.

He manages a whispered promise of "I'll text you" against her ear as Amy finally manages to pull her away. His eyes stay glued to her until she disappears through the gate.

This isn't over. He _can't _let it be over.

He's not letting Lucy Preston get away that easily.


	5. 4 The Feels

**A/N: **So, I just finished writing chapter 9 and to celebrate I decided to post chapter 4. (It's also partially to offer comfort to those of you who watch GOT and dealt with that finale last night. I do not watch it but I saw the live tweets and ouch.) I've been writing more quickly than I anticipated and so I'm posting more quickly than I anticipated.

Mostly because sketchingwitch is bribing me with all kinds of amazingness and her artwork is truly motivating. Omg.

Anyway, hopefully you like this chapter! It's the longest one yet!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Chapter Four: The Feels

* * *

"I need a minute 'cause, boy, you're giving me the,

Feels.

Like the tickle of the bubbles in a bottle of cheap champagne,

And it feels,

Like I'm getting into trouble but I'm gonna do it anyway.

And it feels,

Like love in the morning,

So good it's gone,

Burn through my body all day.

What can I say? Hey.

You're giving me the feels, baby.

Head down to my heels, baby."

-"The Feels" by Maren Morris

* * *

One week since they all rushed out of their resort to the airport. _One week_ since she and Wyatt said goodbye at the gate. She honestly expected that to be it. She really did. But he surprised her. Surprises already seemed to be a common occurrence with Wyatt Logan.

He texted her within 24 hours of her flight landing at LAX.

"_LA still there? Nothing apocalyptic happened while you were gone?"_

"_Believe it or not, the city managed to survive without me. Anybody compromise security while you were slacking off in SC?"_

"_No one except one of my own engineers playing a prank on her boyfriend, who is also one of my engineers."_

Was it just her or could she actually read the eye roll in his tone? No emoji needed.

"_Do I want to know?"_

"_Not really, no. And even if you did I'm not sure I could explain it. The whole geek culture thing just flies right over my head."_

After that, they devolved into small talk. Little updates here and there about their day. Like how the one prank between engineers had grown into a full on prank war. Or how her boss had roped her into giving a presentation to an undergrad orientation group, in the hopes of recruiting students for the history department. It hadn't gone any deeper than that. Neither of them threw out any casual confirmations of feelings. Or asked to make plans.

It's like they can't quite figure out how to break the ice now that they're back in the real world. She assumes it will fizzle out and eventually the texts will stop. She assumes Wyatt will become a wonderful wistful memory and that'll be the end of it.

She really needs to stop _assuming_ things about Wyatt.

Because, right there in front of her, parked along the sidewalk next to the lecture hall, is Wyatt Logan. His head swivels as he scans the crowd exiting her orientation presentation until his eyes finally find her and an infuriating sinful smirk slides across his much too handsome face.

Not only is he parked illegally but he never mentioned a single word about being in Los Angeles. The jerk. She is not prepared to see him and he looks so much better than her. He's leaning against his car, some sort of sleek muscle car of the classic variety, in charcoal dress pants and light blue button up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. Meanwhile, she's wearing a boxy blazer with tweed elbow patches and basic black trousers that haven't been pressed. This is unfair on the most egregious level.

So, she decides to punish him. Just a little.

It's either that or have her way with him on a public sidewalk. Punishing him feels less likely to lead to an arrest and indecent exposure charges.

She pretends she doesn't see him and turns to walk right passed him on the sidewalk. Unfortunately, she sees him chuckle and roll his eyes as she turns. Meaning he knows exactly what she's doing.

One quick stride allows him to catch up and fall into step next to her.

"Excuse me, Professor Preston. I have a question."

God, is he a smug asshole and holy hell is it ever attractive.

"You'll have to save it for office hours. I'm on my way to an appointment," she tells him with a cool stare. That's actually not a lie, but the appointment is lunch with her sister.

"Really? Because I have it on good authority that your next appointment is lunch in your office," he declares victoriously. "With your sister."

She stops walking and turns to him with a raised brow. "Keeping tabs on me, Mr. I-Work-In-Private-Security?"

"No," he answers with a crooked grin. "The authority in question offered up the information freely when I texted her to ask where you were doing this orientation thing. No investigating required."

Of course it was Amy that squealed. Brat.

But she ignores him and points over her shoulder to his car. "You know you can't park there, right?"

"Yes, which is why I wasn't planning to be parked long."

"Uh huh," she says with a smirk. "And what else were you planning?"

"So far, just lunch," he replies as he cuts off her path and comes to a stop in front of her. She stumbles, barely colliding against his (very solid) chest.

She narrows her eyes as if seriously considering her answer. They both know her answer is yes, but she can't let that go to his head. "I suppose I could miss one regular lunch with Amy."

"Well, thank you very much for penciling me in, ma'am," he says as he reaches between them to take her hand in his. They turn back toward his car; as they do he pulls her against his side and slips his arm around her waist.

She's trying with all her might not to think about anything too much as he opens the car door for her and waits for her to sit. But no amount of trying keeps the questions from reverberating around in her brain. What is he doing here? Why didn't he tell her he was coming? Is she supposed to act like him being in Los Angeles _isn't_ a big gesture? Or is it a big gesture at all? She has so many questions.

While she's been drowning in doubt and curiosity, he's walked around the car and settled into the driver's side. He points a blinding smile at her and she has to remind herself to breathe. He really is too much, she thinks, as he starts the car and pulls out into traffic.

"Nice car," she says as she takes in the bench seat in the back and retroactively fitted three point seat belts in the front. "Less fussy without airbags, I'd imagine."

What the hell, Lucy? The first thing you do while he drives you around is insult his car? This is why she doesn't enjoy dating. This right here.

Lucky for her, he doesn't take it to heart. He laughs quietly and then focuses eager blue eyes on her. "Let me guess, you drive something much more sensible? Like a...Volvo?"

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open. Did he really just guess that? "How the hell did you know that?"

"If I know anything, it's cars," he replies with a modest shrug and a wink. "You seem very sensible. It just fit."

"To be fair, it was my dad's and I spend too much on rent to be able to afford a new car. It runs. That's all I care about."

"See? _Sensible_," he says. He doesn't even try to hide his pride.

"Also known as boring," she says with a wry grin.

He laughs loudly and then shakes his head at her before moving his eyes from the road to take her in. Despite the boxy blazer and wrinkled pants, his gaze heats up the car. If any look could fog up the windows it would be his.

"Trust me, you are anything but boring."

Oh god. It has never been as easy to want someone as it is to want him. Barely ten minutes in his presence and she's already imagining having him all to herself. With that knowledge though, the questions return. It's not fair to either of them to get addicted to something fleeting, and becoming addicted to him is starting to feel inevitable.

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods, Mr. Logan?" She asks when she can't bear holding the question in any longer.

"My boss is thinking about buying a building in Los Angeles. He thinks it would be beneficial for meetings and conferences. I'm here for the weekend determining if any of his final choices can meet our security needs," he explains.

She knows she shouldn't be, but a part of her is disappointed. It isn't a trip planned around her. He has actual business here. That changes everything. It would be rude to come into town without at least saying hi. Is that all this is? Is he merely paying her a call to be polite?

Paying her a call? What is she? A Jane Austen heroine?

"Ah, well, that sounds…"

"Dull? Mundane? Tedious?" He asks. "Yes, it's pretty much all three of those things. There is one silver lining, though."

"Oh?" She asks as she fends off a sigh. "What's that?"

Some sort of sporting event? A concert, maybe? She's a pit stop on the way to something better. She just knows it.

"You," he answers with a smirk. "I, um, could have sent someone else out here instead. My buddy, Dave, offered but...well—_you're here_. It didn't take long to decide to take on this assignment myself."

Oh. _Oh. _The corners of her mouth turn upward automatically and she feels her teeth baring smile before she registers her own movements. "Me? And, wait, did you say you're here for the _weekend_?"

"My entire weekend has been blocked off to tour four buildings. I have one after lunch, and three tomorrow. My meeting to discuss them with my boss is set for Monday afternoon. So, I'm free tonight, tomorrow night, and all day Sunday." He forces a breezy tone as he continues. He's trying to act like there's no pressure to see him, but she can tell it's the outcome he's hoping for. "You know, if you want. I thought maybe we could start with dinner tonight."

"Yes!" She says before realizing she might sound entirely too zealous. She decides to try to match his carefree pretense. "I mean, yeah, sure. I think I can make it."

She doesn't miss his sigh of relief and she starts to think they might, against all odds, be on the exact same page. It's a confusing page, sure, but she'd rather be confused with him than confused _about _him.

She's still in shock as he parks outside of a restaurant and they get out of the car. He's actually in Los Angeles and he's there (mostly) for _her._ Amy is going to _love_ this. She's surprised her sister didn't call her as soon as Wyatt texted her. He takes her hand in his as they walk through the door and and entwines his fingers with hers. She only got to appreciate those calluses for one weekend but, good god, did she miss them. They're seated at a table for two tucked in the back and despite knowing better she _can't_ stop grinning at him.

Suddenly, her body is tickling and buzzing from head to toe. That magnetism from last weekend is back along with that intoxicating bubbly feeling that keeps her floating anytime he's around.

"I can't believe you're here," she says finally as her cheeks heat under the power of his blue eyes.

"Did you really think I was going to leave it at that rushed goodbye in the airport?" He asks her with a silly grin of his own. "I'm a little offended."

She lets out a short effervescent laugh and shakes her head at him. "You could have told me you were coming."

"Where's the fun in that?" He says as his grin turns crooked. "Your face when you spotted me was too good to miss."

She forces herself to look away from him and down at the menu. She has to remind herself that he'll be around all weekend, until Monday morning it sounds like. She can go back to gawking at him as soon as foods on the way. She's hungry and she's sure he is too. They both order quickly. She thinks he's as eager to stare at her as she is to stare at him. Had it really only been a week since she last saw him? It felt longer.

"I am at a total disadvantage here," she tells him with a teasing glare. "If you told me you were coming I could have, I don't know, dolled up a little."

He quirks a brow at her and gives her a thorough once over. His eyes are hungry as he shakes his head. She's pretty certain that hunger has nothing to do with lunch. "You look plenty tempting just as you are, Professor. I kind of wish we'd gotten room service at my hotel instead. I'd really love a chance to peel that blazer off of you."

Her face flushes and her eyes widen. "Wyatt, we're in public."

"Like I care?" He asks. "Let 'em overhear. Anyone who does will agree with me."

She doesn't know about _that, _but she certainly likes hearing _him_ talk like that.

"You came to win, though, sir," she says as she motions to his rolled up sleeves. "You're actually killing me."

He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest, which simultaneously shows off his solid biceps and pectorals. She's not dumb. She's knows he's done this to her on purpose.

"You like this, huh?" He says as he glances down at his sleeves. "It's working for you?"

She purses her lips to keep from laughing at his proud face. "God, you're ego must be out of control."

"Guess I need somebody to keep me in check then. Seems like the perfect job for you, babydoll," he teases with a wink.

"You are infuriating, _sweetheart_," she says with a weak eye roll.

"Gotta roll with the gifts I'm given, Luce."

This time she can't stop her laughter. He's ridiculous and there's no way for her to resist him.

"Besides," he says as catches her eye and flashes her a provocative smirk. "Just returning the favor. Thinking about you makes me a little crazy."

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks away from him with a self-satisfied smile. It's gratifying to know that he is just as out of control as she is.

The rest of lunch kept up the flirting and friendly ribbing. Her knees bumped his under the table, his hand found hers more than once, and his eyes were everywhere. She has the distinct impression that his eyes went everywhere his hands _wanted_ to go. Afterward, he offers to drive her home. Amy has her car and she was planning on finding her way home on public transportation. She also doesn't want this lunch to end. A part of her is afraid he'll disappear again as soon as he drives away from her. So, she directs him to her apartment building.

He pulls in a space and puts the car in park and they sit in silence for all of five seconds before her hands grab his shirt collar and yank his lips down to hers. He laughs against her lips and then slips his hands underneath her blazer to squeeze her hips. He nearly hauls her into his lap but he's stopped by the steering wheel and the center console. Instead she ends up with her ass half in the seat and half on the hard console between them.

"No, wait," she mumbles against his mouth as she pulls back and then climbs into the back seat.

He flashes her a look that's somehow wolffish and mirthful all at once. He takes a little longer to climb over. He has more solid mass than she does. But once he's back there with her it's immediately better than trying to kiss across the front seats. She sinks down into the seat and stretches out as much as she can while he captures her lips again and leans his weight on her. One of his hands traces down the length of her arm, briefly stopping on the tweed elbow patch. His hand lands on her wrist and then grabs the sleeve of her blazer. His other arm wraps solidly around her waist, holding her firmly in place as he tugs the sleeve off of her arm. She leans up so he can push the blazer around her back and then pull her arm free of the other sleeve.

He tosses the blazer in the front seat and then makes it his mission to feel every inch of the bare skin on her arms. When his hands have felt from her shoulder to the tip of her fingers, he moves them to her hips and slides them under the bottom hem of her blouse. All the while still kissing her rigorously. His calluses skim over her stomach and she swears she's going to melt into his backseat. He'll have to mop up a puddle of her before this is over.

Her own hands have started to unbutton his dress shirt and then dip into the round collar of his undershirt. There's no other bare skin for her touch and she _needs_ to feel his skin under her palms. It's like she's verifying how real he is. She's making sure she's not dreaming. His hands delve under the cups of her bra and she moans into his mouth. Okay, definitely real. She is _not_ dreaming. That feels _too delicious_ to be a dream. He hardens against her hip and she wonders if they're really going to go all the way in the backseat of his car like a couple of teenagers.

About the time she decides she's _totally _fine with that, his phone blares from his pants pocket. He growls against her mouth but pulls back to rest his forehead against hers. He meets her eyes and she has to swallow back a gasp. The storm clouds from their first night together are back. _Jesus_, he really was going to round all the bases with her in the backseat of his car. They both breathe heavily for a several seconds before he closes his eyes and winces as if he's in pain.

"That was probably the realtor." His voice cracks over the words and she's almost certain she sees him blush. "I should go." He starts to sit up but then freezes. "In a minute."

She giggles because she can still feel him hard as a rock against her and his gravelly chuckle joins her a beat later.

"Shit, I was really just gonna fuck you in my backseat," he says, looking both amused and embarrassed.

She laughs harder and tries to distract herself by fixing his shirt buttons. "I was definitely going to let you. Kinda felt like I was making up for being a total bore in high school. Should I leave you to, um, _recover_ without me?" She asks before she presses her lips together to hold in another laugh. When that almost doesn't work she brings one of her hands to her lips.

"Probably," he answers with a sheepish grin.

She untangles herself from him with a muffled giggle and grabs her purse before pushing the seat forward and opening the passenger side door. She winks at him as she climbs out. "See you at dinner," she says.

"And after," he says from where he's still sitting in the backseat. "We're finishing this."

"In your car?" She asks with feigned innocence, knowing exactly what the question will do to him.

He groans and closes his eyes. "No," he says through gritted teeth. "But don't think that fantasy isn't going to stick with me for the rest of the day."

She heads upstairs and watches him from her bedroom window. His car sits in her parking spot for five minutes before she sees him step out of the driver's side door from the back seat. Her face is still flushed from the kissing and the laughing as she continues to watch him until he pulls out of her lot.

Wyatt Logan found her. She was just making out with him in the backseat of his car. He actually came after her. That was _real_. She bites back a squeal and then digs her phone out of her purse. Amy needs to hear about this as soon as possible.

* * *

Wyatt goes on with his day with great difficulty. He tours the building with the realtor and makes notes on his phone about it's weakness and strengths so he can compare them to the other buildings he'll be seeing the next day. He goes to his hotel to change and remembers something he meant to mention to Lucy but forgot amidst a heated make out session in the backseat of his Charger.

He shoots of a quick text before he hops in the shower.

"_I'd pack an overnight bag if I were you, Professor. I don't think we'll be making it back to your place."_

He checks the phone as soon as he steps out of the shower and grins at her response.

"_I assumed as much considering we didn't make it that far the first time. BTW, I think you still have my blazer."_

It is, in fact, still in his front seat. "_No, I don't think so. Oh well, guess you'll have to buy a replacement." _

He's only half joking. A part of him really doesn't want to give it back. He's serious about finding that blazer tempting. He didn't know he had a thing for the Professor/Student scenario until he spotted her leaving the lecture hall earlier that day. But he can't deny the urge to see her in that blazer and little else or to be the one to slowly slide it down her shoulders revealing her soft curves waiting for him underneath it.

Stop. He shakes the thoughts away. He needs to get ready for dinner. If he keeps on with this train of thought he's going to need another shower (a cold one this time.) He plans to walk up to her apartment and pick her up properly, but Lucy's already waiting outside when he pulls in.

"I was gonna come up," he says as he opens the door and steps out.

She grins and shrugs. "There's a bed up there. I was worried we'd miss dinner."

He laughs and takes her duffle bag from her. "Smartass."

She leans up on her toes and places a quick kiss to his lips. "Great ass."

"Keep talking like that, Preston, and I'm likely to take you straight to the hotel."

"You're likely to do that anyway," she says with a teasing grin. "Doesn't much matter what I say."

Truer words have never been spoken. He's positive of that.

Just like lunch, their orders are placed quickly. He's torn between wanting to hurry and get her alone and wanting to enjoy every tiny moment she's willing to give him. They fill the conversation with light banter and he marvels at how comfortable things already feel with Lucy. The rhythm of conversation never slows to awkward, but it never feels like they're talking just to avoid silence.

He waves off dessert, knowing there will be strawberries and whip cream awaiting them in his hotel room. He ordered them to be delivered just before nine, which should be about _now_.

The waiter walks away and Lucy peers at him suspiciously. "If you're about to tell me you didn't order dessert because I am dessert, I might have to smack you."

He laughs and shakes his head. "I know I'm a sap but give me more credit than that, Luce."

"Just checking," she says with a grin and a soft chuckle.

"Dessert is actually waiting on us in my room," he tells her with a confident smirk. "Room service is a wonderful thing."

"Smooth," Lucy says with an approving smile.

"Fumbling car makeouts aside," Wyatt says with a bashful blush. "I do try."

"Um, there was nothing _fumbling_ about that make out session, Wyatt Logan. You were _very _thorough. I was quite enjoying myself," she assures him.

"Well, then hold onto that thought, Professor. Cause we're about to take it up a couple of notches," he promises as he motions for the check.

"Oh, I'm holding onto it alright. Been holding onto it all day."

_Jesus, _where's the waiter with the bill?

Finally, he comes back to the table. Wyatt all but throws his card in the folio and shoves it at their, perfectly nice, waiter. Lucy's laughter is barely contained in a rubbery expression with her hands covering her mouth. He's simmering already, boiling under his skin. The glowing happiness in her eyes isn't helping.

The card is returned to him and tip is tossed onto the table but it's all done on autopilot. He doesn't register any of it until Lucy's hand is tangled in his and they're walking toward his car. He's not even sure how much tip he left. He hopes it was fair.

He says this to Lucy and she laughs loudly. "You left him a hundred dollar bill, Wyatt. You're that waiter's favorite customer tonight."

"Fuck, seriously?" Wyatt curses. He winces as he mentally counts the bills left in his wallet. Prayer circle for his gas tank. Hopefully what's left gets him at least halfway home. "I mean, um, that's fine I guess. He could probably use it more than me, right?"

Lucy is gasping, she's laughing so hard. When her breathing finally catches up with her mirth she says, "I'm so relieved you did that by accident. For a second, I wondered if you were one of those guys with no concept of _expensive._ Turns out you just want to sleep with me so badly that you blacked out. _Thank god._"

That does it. What option does he have after that other than kissing her senseless in the middle of a Los Angeles sidewalk? No options. Absolutely no other options.

She's still laughing against his lips as he reels her in but it doesn't take long for his lips to steal her focus. His hand dives into her hair and his other hand finds the small of her back. One kiss becomes two and then three. He's wrapped up in her and ignorant of anything else until a catcall breaks through the haze of her that's filling his brain. He breaks away from her and smirks.

"Not laughing now, are you?"

"Shut up and find the car, Logan. We're either going to your hotel or I'm pulling you into the backseat to finish what we started," she threatens. "Which one I choose depends on how long it takes us to get to your room."

He wastes no time continuing their brisk walk to his car after that declaration. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

It's not long after that when they finally walk through the door and into his hotel room. It's a swanky room, he knows. He didn't book it. Mason did. Mason has no concept of money anymore. He _is _one of those guys Lucy talked about who doesn't know what expensive is, and this hotel is expensive.

He drops her overnight bag at the foot of the bed and watches as she takes in the room with wide eyes.

"Wow," she mutters.

"Perk of the job," he says as he toes off his shoes. He grins at the room key envelope he left on the nightstand. He takes his extra key and tosses at her.

She barely catches it but manages to give him a confused glance anyway.

"Thought you might want it to go with the other one you stole."

She immediately looks guilty and worries her bottom lip before speaking. "You noticed that?"

"I had two keys before you handed them to me and only one after," he says with a laugh. "Yeah, I noticed." And he thought it was adorable. Still does.

"I just...wanted a momento," she confesses.

He reaches for her hand and tugs her into his chest. "Well, maybe that's what I'll call your blazer," he jokes. "A momento."

She chuckles and smacks his arm lightly. "No, you won't. I need it. It goes back home with me." She presses the extra key into his free hand and then shrugs bashfully. "Maybe it's your turn to keep the room key. I already have a memento of us."

It's a fair point. He wordlessly pulls out his wallet and slides the extra key into an empty card slot. "Done."

The fondness on her face when she looks up at him is almost too much for him to bear. She steps back from his arms and then turns her back to him. She pulls her hair away from her back, exposing the zipper on the yellow satin cocktail dress, and then throws a coy smile over her shoulder. She doesn't have to ask for him to know what she wants.

He grips the zipper tab and carefully slides it all the way down. She's beautiful in the dress. He may want it off her now, but he likes her in it too. He tells himself not to think too far down the road, but he can easily imagine her wearing it to one of Mason's corporate cocktail parties. By his side. As his date. She would outshine every other woman in the room.

She drops her arms to her sides and let's the dress fall, pooling at her feet. She turns back around to face him and then presses herself against him, with her arms wrapped around his neck.

She drags half lidded lustful eyes to his as she speaks. "Well, I'm here. What are you going to do with me?"

He skims a hand up, from the top curve of her lace covered ass and over the natural line of her spine, until he can feel the clasp of her bra under his fingers. He pinches it until it opens. The material sags between them, with the straps falling down her ivory shoulders.

He leans toward her and brushes his lips over hers before he answers.

"I think the better question is what _won't_ I be doing with you," he whispers against her lips.

She manages one ragged breath in and out before he closes the small bit of distance between them and covers her lips with his.

A short moment later, his clothes and hers occupy the hotel room floor and they make excellent use of the California King. They forget about the strawberries and whip cream until much later, but it's the perfect snack to re-energize between rounds. It's just as amazing as he remembers. Maybe more so this time because the ticking clock counting down to him leaving seems quieter, further away, than it was last weekend. They're both softer, more tender. It's slow and reverent.

The heat is still the same, but they're not teenagers in the backseat of his car. They're adults who have jumped headfirst into something they don't truly understand. It's terrifying and exhilarating. Neither of them want to forget a moment of it.

Eventually, they tire each other out and drift off to sleep. He remembers falling asleep with her face pressed into his shoulder and her hand over his heart. It's the best sleep he's had in years, even if it's short.

He wakes up first, to the soft silent buzzing of his cell phone alarm. He's careful this time to not let it disrupt the quiet. He slides out from under her with a kiss to her bare shoulder and then takes a shower. The realtor is meeting him downstairs in a couple of hours. He'd rather spend the morning with her, but he also likes his paycheck. He should probably try and keep it.

When he steps out of the bathroom she's still asleep. He stops to admire her for a moment. She's laying on her side with her dark hair fanned across the crisp white sheets.

Her fair skin and the delicate curve of her neck only add to the image and make him think of fairytale fantasies and sleeping curses. There's something about the contrast of her. Skin as pale as snow. Hair as dark as ebony. What he knows of fairy tales comes from the too few years he spent with his mother, but to him, at least, she seems the personification of those ideals. Beautifully breathtaking. Stunningly dark.

Once he's dressed and ready for the day, he sits on the edge of the bed and caresses her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He traces the line of her jaw and the slant of her neck before he lays his hand flat against the back of her shoulder.

Her skin is softer than he thought possible. Like rose petals. His hands are rough and he knows it. A tucked away and tortured part of him believes he's not worthy enough to enjoy someone as elegant as she is. To hold someone as winsome as she is. His darkness isn't like hers. It's not alluring. It's ugly and shameful. His hands are rough from calluses earned breaking laws in his younger days and inflicting pain in more recent ones.

Still, selfishly, he wants her. He shouldn't. She deserves more than he can give her, but she lights him up and makes him want to be better. How can he stay away?

As if she senses his thoughts, her eyes slowly flutter open and the smile that spreads across her face when she sees him nearly stops his heart.

Again, he wonders how she doesn't see her own beauty. What happened that keeps her from seeing it for herself?

"Good morning," he greets with an affectionate smile.

"Morning," she murmurs. "Why do you look so handsome so early?"

Her expression is sweetly bewildered and he lets out a light laugh at the sight of it. "I have a breakfast meeting and then three buildings to tour."

"Oh," she says with a disappointed furrow of her brow. He knows he's told her this but she's clearly still too groggy to remember. "You're leaving?"

"I'll be back after lunch," he assures her. "You're more than welcome to hang out here. Order room service, use the shower, whatever you want."

"Well," she begins before a yawn briefly interrupts her. "I did bring my laptop. It might be nice to write without the risk of Amy barging in on me."

He nods as he recalls her interesting history lecture from the previous weekend. "Right. Your book on...Judith Campbell?"

"You remember that?" She asks in surprise.

"First thing you gotta learn about me, Preston," he says as he bumps her nose with his. "I remember everything about the people that matter."

She sits up slightly to bring her lips closer and blushes. "Everything?"

He nods and ghosts a kiss over her lips while he repeats himself. "Everything."

She wraps her arms around his neck and uses that hold to lift herself further into his space. The troublemaking gleam in her eyes tips him off to her plan a split second before it happens.

"Okay, so remember this," she challenges before she surges forward and captures his lips in a passionate kiss.

He comes very close to saying to hell with his schedule and crawling back into bed with her, but he knows he can't do that. He pulls away and lets her feel the full weight of his heated stare as he talks. "I'll be back for more of this after lunch."

"That a promise or a threat?" She asks cheekily as he disentangles himself from her arms.

"Bit of both," he replies with a chuckle and a wink.

It takes every bit of willpower he has to walk out of that hotel room, but he manages it. He tries not to be distracted by memories of her while completing his security assessments. Tries not to ask himself what she's doing while he's away. He imagines her in one of his shirts, laptop perched on her knees, typing furiously. Clearly, trying not to think of her is only a partially successful effort.

They finish the building tours and lunch mercifully early. He lets the realtor know that Mason will be in touch next week to decide which building to make an offer on, and then his work day is over. An hour earlier than scheduled.

He arrives back at the room to find Lucy exactly how he imagined her, with one exception. The laptop isn't perched on her knees, it's on the desk. She's wearing his light blue button up from the day before and sitting in the desk chair with one leg underneath her. Her typing is faster and more furious than he previously thought humanly possible. Judging by the two room service trays outside, she's already had breakfast and lunch.

She looks up and smiles when he walks in, leaving him wishing he could come back to her everyday.

"Hey! You're back!"

"I am done for the weekend," he declares as he sits on the foot of the bed and takes off his shoes. "How did the writing go?"

"So well that I'm thinking I need my own top secret writing location where Amy doesn't know to look for me because this one really worked," she replies as she clicks something and then closes the laptop. "But I think I've reached a good stopping place."

She stands and then sits on the bed with her back against the headboard. Her hand pats the empty side of the bed next to her as she gives him an inviting glance.

He scoots back until his back is resting on the headboard too. She tosses her bare legs over his lap and then puts one arm around his shoulders.

"Anything worthwhile on your tours?" She asks as her hand lazily combs through the hair on the back of his head.

His hands rest on her knee and on her calf, with his thumbs making slow circles. Being this close to her, being allowed to touch her, feels like a trap almost. Like the Universe is giving him happiness as a joke. It's setting him up so it can rip the rug right out from under him. He usually doesn't get the things he wants without a setback or two.

"Nothing worth missing this," he replies as he squeezes her knee.

His thoughts must show on his face because Lucy suddenly gives him a look of concern. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," he says before kissing her lips softly. He pulls back with a cocky grin that he isn't sure he truly feels and then says, "Are you enjoying my shirt?"

She chases his lips as he pulls back and manages to catch his bottom lip for a light nibble. "Very much. In fact, I think I'd be willing to trade you for it."

"Oh, really?" He asks with a quirked brow.

"You can keep my blazer if I can keep your shirt."

"Sold," he says immediately. "I think that's a fair trade, ma'am."

"Good," she agrees. "Now take it off me, Soldier."

"You give the best director orders," he tells her as he laughs his way into a deep kiss.

He's this close to pushing her back onto the mattress when she breaks away in a rush. "Wait! Before I forget! You got a check out reminder call for tomorrow?"

He nods. "Work won't be paying for this room after tonight. I'll be checking out of this room and then into a cheaper one. Why?"

"Well, I just…" She bites her bottom lip with shy hesitance before meeting his eyes. "I mean, you could stay with me. You have to leave early on Monday, don't you? Just check out tomorrow and stay with me and then Monday morning you won't have to deal with checking out. Plus, it means more time...for us."

"Really?" He asks. "You want me to stay with you?"

She shrugs. "If you want to."

"I want to," he answers eagerly.

"Good," She says as her bashful expressions turns ecstatic. "Then you will."

He's still staring at her with a pleasantly surprised expression as she frames his face with her hands and tugs his lips back to hers.

"Now, I believe I gave you an order, Logan."

Cruel trick of the Universe or not, he's already falling hard for her and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

* * *

Seeing Wyatt in her apartment is already strange. Not strange because she barely knows him. No, it's strange because it's _not _strange. He seems to belong amongst all of her furniture and piles and piles of books. He insists on buying groceries and making her dinner Sunday night, which means leaving her cozy queen sized bed and actually putting on clothing. She much prefers the idea of ordering Chinese for delivery and keeping his very built arms tucked firmly around her.

But he wants to do something to thank her for letting him stay with her. It's such a sweet gesture that she can't really say no.

She's locking her door behind them when the door across the hall opens and panic floods her system. _Noah_.

"Lucy," Noah says brightly as she hears his door close.

She turns to find Wyatt already sizing him up.

"Noah," she replies with a polite smile. "How've you been?"

"Good," he says with a nod before his eyes warily slide to Wyatt. "You?"

"Oh you know, great, actually."

"You never told me how your vacation went," he says as he leans against his closed door. "We should catch up."

Wyatt clears his throat awkwardly causing Lucy to remember her manners. She may be freaking out, but that's no reason to be rude.

"Oh sorry! Noah, this is my friend Wyatt. Wyatt, this is my neighbor Noah," She says quickly as she motions between them. "We were just headed out to the store."

Noah and Wyatt exchange a stiff handshake. She thinks Noah winces slightly as he pulls his hand from Wyatt's but she isn't sure.

"You from out of town, Will?" Noah asks before he shakes his head at himself and chuckles. "Sorry, not Will. Wyatt, right?"

The look Wyatt shoots Noah is as dry as the Sahara. "Right, and you're...Nolan?"

"Noah," he clarifies.

"That's it. My bad. Yeah, I'm from out of town. The Bay Area."

"Oh, hey, I graduated from UCSF years ago. Used to work at the Mission Bay medical center down there," Noah offers with a nod and a forced smile.

Lucy has to swallow a sigh. It's almost a conversational requirement for her to fill in the blanks. "Noah's a doctor," she tells Wyatt.

"Ah," Wyatt says as he leans back and forth on his heels. Obviously, bored with this conversation. "Good for you, Doc. Pediatry, I'm guessing?"

She bites down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing. She's afraid she's drawn blood. What a smartass. God, she adores him.

"No, I'm a surgeon. Pediatric surgeon, to be exact," he informs them as his eyes narrow on Wyatt slightly. "What is it you do, Wayne?"

Wyatt doesn't even bother correcting him. "Private security. No fancy degrees required, just several years with US Army Special Forces. You know, fighting terrorism."

"Well," Lucy says with an awkward clap of her hands, wanting to head their passive acts of aggression off as soon as possible. "We should be going. But it was great to see you again, Noah."

"You too, Lucy," Noah replies, though his eyes don't leave Wyatt.

Lucy loops her arm through Wyatt's and pulls him down the hall.

"Nice to meet you, Wayne."

Wyatt snorts and nods. "Yeah, you too, Nolan."

Wyatt doesn't say a single thing until they're tucked safely away in his car, but she can tell he's tense. She feels it in the arm she wrapped hers around. Once they're seated and the doors are closed, he looks back at the double doors to her building with a glare that has the potential to kill.

"Who the _hell_ was that asshat?"

Lucy chuckles softly before answering. "My last date."

"Well, I understand why you didn't want to see him again, then," Wyatt says with an eye roll as he starts the car.

"He was perfectly polite on our date," Lucy offers, half heartedly, in Noah's defense. "Must be you he doesn't like."

"Douchebag doesn't even know me. It wasn't me. It was the sight of me leaving your apartment," Wyatt mutters as he drives away. "I don't like it. That guy _has _to live across the hall from you? There's no way he might consider moving, is there?"

"Wyatt...are you—" No, he can't be. "—_jealous_?"

He keeps quiet and that's enough of an answer for her. She reaches across the middle console and lightly squeezes his thigh.

"You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Noah. If I were at all interested in him I would be with him already and you wouldn't _be here_," she assures him. "Besides," she says with a smirk. "Marrying me off to a doctor, medical or otherwise, was my mother's dream, not mine. Why do you think she and I don't talk anymore?"

Wyatt's eyes widen and a silence fills the car and it's only then that Lucy realizes…

_She never told him that._

"Oh, shit," she says with a wince. "I thought—I forgot that I haven't—I feel like you know me better than you do so I forgot I hadn't told you about…**.**" She blows out a frustrated breath as she cuts off her own sentence. "It's a long story but my mother and I don't talk. She had expectations. I didn't want to meet them. She told me to leave and not come back until I 'started making sense again.'" She pauses and motions to the city outside of his car windows. "So, I did, and Amy went with me."

It's the oversimplified version, but it will do for now.

He gives her a look of total understanding, as if from personal experience, but doesn't offer any stories in return.

"I'm sorry, Lucy. You shouldn't have had to deal with that. Everyone deserves to live life on their own terms."

She smiles weakly at him and nods. "I'm still learning how to do that, honestly. I let her control my life for far too long."

"What's important is that you're not letting her control you _now_. Focus on that," He suggests with a decisive nod. "You do that and it'll get easier."

Now she knows he's speaking from experience and she wonders if he'll ever tell her about it. She hopes so. But she's starting to realize Wyatt Logan is a tight lipped enigma. Maybe not purposefully, but he shares very little of his past. Hell, he hasn't even told her the name of the company he works for. Comparatively, he knows much more about her than she knows about him.

For the first time since she met him she thinks that's a bit unfair. There's a spark of something - anger? Resentment? Disappointment? As quickly as it appears she tamps it down. It's fine. She's fine. They just met. He doesn't owe her anything. There's no need to burst their happy little bubble just yet.

She pastes on a smile and eventually it turns real again. Fake it until you make it should be Lucy's life motto. They buy the groceries they need, Wyatt makes her dinner, and by the time they kiss their way back to her bed she's forgotten all about her flash of whatever the hell it was. All she knows is _him_. His lips, his hands, his muscles, and the now familiar storm clouds in his eyes.

Early the next morning, before the sun is even up, she feels the bed shift and hears her shower turn on. Her bubbly high from the night before vanishes.

It's Monday morning. He's leaving.

And there's no telling when she'll see him again.

There's no chance she's going back to sleep now. She gets out of bed and throws on the blue button up she stole from him. He will not take it with him. It's hers now, and she plans to wear it while he leaves just to make sure of it.

A new sadness fills her. She didn't feel this last time. She felt disappointment, but not grief. She didn't think she was actually losing anything last time. Now, she worries she might be. She wills herself not to cry. She will not be one of those weepy women who shed useless tears over a man they just met. She. Will. Not.

She leaves her bedroom. She has to. She worries the next time she sets eyes on him she'll burst into tears. She busies herself with making coffee and finding a travel mug she won't care to part with. She finds an old Stanford University cup in the back of her kitchen cabinets and decides Wyatt can have it. If she never sees him again at least she won't miss the cup.

She's so focused on her task and _not_ thinking about Wyatt that she doesn't notice the moment he joins her in the kitchen.

His arms wrap around her waist and she's so surprised that she nearly spills hot coffee all down her front. Luckily, she catches it and a bit of it merely sloshes on to the countertop.

"I didn't mean to wake you earlier," he says as his freshly showered scent overwhelms her.

"It's okay. I wanted to be up and alert when you left anyway," she assures him as she sets her coffee cup aside. She feels him drop his lips to her neck and momentarily forgets what she was going to say. When she collects herself again, she points to the empty stanford mug before she speaks again. "I wanted to make you coffee to take with you but I don't know how you take it."

Instead of releasing her to make his coffee, like she expects him to do, he presses his lips to her ear and speaks. "Two sugars, barely any cream."

With his arms around her she drops two spoonfuls of sugar into the coffee she pours for him, and then pours in a small splash of cream. She stirs and then puts the lid on the travel mug before turning in his arms and holding the cup between them.

He takes it and then reaches behind her to set it back down, instead he focuses his eyes on hers. "I think I enjoyed this weekend as much as last weekend, and that's saying something considering I worked for a portion of it."

She smiles shyly and pushes away her sadness. Last weekend ended abruptly. This one will have an actual goodbye. Is that why he came? To give her a proper farewell? He did say he couldn't leave it with a rushed kiss at the airport terminal. Should she say something? Should she ask? But then…

If she's more invested than he is all she'll do is ruin his memories of what they have - whatever that may be to him. So, she keeps it to herself. She decides to follow his lead.

"Me too," she agrees with a chuckle. "I think I actually got more writing done waiting on you than I have for the last month. Productive _and _fun. Who knew that was possible?"

There's a beep from his watch and he heaves a sigh. "I should go."

"Right, you've got a long drive."

He picks up his beat up army duffle and hoists it onto his shoulder and holds a garment bag in his hand. She watches him lean around her to pick up the travel mug with his other hand. They're both quiet as she walks him to the door.

"Gonna miss you, Professor," he tells her before he gives her one last slow kiss. His hands are occupied but hers aren't. She can't resist a final feel of his stubble and running her hands along his muscular shoulders.

"You'd better. It wouldn't be fair if I missed you and you didn't miss me too," she replies after the kiss is done. She's surprised her tears aren't threatening to return. This doesn't just feel like a goodbye, it sounds like one too.

She opens the door and he steps out into the hall. She watches until he stops at the elevator, catching his eye as he looks over his shoulder. He smiles sadly and gives her a small wave.

She waves back and then reluctantly shuts her door.

There's several minutes of silence before her brain registers he's really gone and she thinks, _now what? _She doesn't know how long she's been standing there, unmoving, but she's caught completely off guard by the hurried insistent knocking on her door.

She opens without checking to see who it is and not a second later finds herself being pushed back into her apartment by a solid body and lips urgently capturing hers. She knows instantly who it is by the feel of him under her palms and the smell of him that fills the apartment.

_Wyatt._

His arms tighten around her as he kicks the door shut behind him. His hands are free of everything. No duffle, garment bag, or coffee. He must have dropped them off in his car and then run back up to her door. He walks her backwards to the wall nearest her front door and pins her to it with his entire person.

"That wasn't the goodbye I wanted," he says huskily as his hand slides up the outside of her thigh and then under her borrowed shirt. He spreads his hand out over her ribs until his thumb brushes the underside of her breast.

What follows is an onslaught of kisses and nibbles she never saw coming. All she can do is gasp his name and arch against him. She has no defense for this - _for him_. He unbuttons the shirt and pulls it open, exposing the fact that she is completely naked underneath it. He gives himself a moment to take her in and she has to fight the urge to self consciously pull the shirt closed again. If he wants one last look, then she'll give him one last look.

"Beautiful," he whispers as he slips a hand under knee and hooks one of her legs around him. His other hand delves into the curls between her legs. A needy whimper escapes her as the heat flooding her body becomes overwhelming.

He grinds himself against her center and she moans at the feeling of him already hard for her, through his jeans.

"Please, Wyatt," she begs. She wants him so badly that she doesn't even bother to be ashamed of begging for it. She reaches for his belt and, surprising herself, deftly and quickly unbuckles it.

His hands grab her wrists and pull them to his lips. He kisses each one and then holds them to the wall above her head in a firm one handed grip. His lips crush hers again. He keeps her properly distracted because the next thing that breaks through her flushed fog is the sound of a foil wrapper and then, almost impossibly fast, he's pushing inside of her.

"Oh, shit, _yes_," she says with appreciative sigh.

He moves once and every nerve ending she has shudders. He's left one of her feet still on the floor, that foot pushes up on to her tiptoes as all her digits curl. God, he fits her so perfectly. How is it possible for someone she barely knows to fill in every bit of her?

He releases her hands to scoop under her rear and pull her up against him. Both of her legs are now wrapped around his waist. His shirt is still buttoned and crisp. His jeans and boxers are down around his thighs. Half perfect, half disheveled. It feels fitting. He moves again and the fabric of his shirt against her bare chest only adds to the friction.

"Jesus, you're perfect," he mutters as he picks up the pace and positions a hand behind her head. She's grateful for that hand, although the feeling of him inside her might be worth the knocks on the head.

"Right back at you," she replies with a whimper as she finds her own rhythm against him, allowing him in deeper.

Everything starts to tighten and flutter. They've barely begun and she's already on the precipice. A few more movements, in and out, and she's as close as she can be to the edge without actually falling. His movements become more erratic and she can tell he's just as close as she is.

His lips fall to her neck and she feels him alternating between a bite and a suck. The longer he drives into her _and _nibbles on her the more she struggles to breath through the coiling pressure welling up inside of her. He's _trying_ to leave a mark on her and, for some reason, the idea of walking around with _his mark_ on her neck is what finally sends her vaulting into the heavens.

The sound she makes while she comes feels _wicked_. It's the loudest she's ever been. She wonders what it means that she's only loud _with Wyatt. _She would worry that the noise might bleed through the walls but she's too euphoric to really care. Wyatt follows after her as her aftershocks twitch around him. He kisses the spot he made on her neck while he catches his breath and then moves upward to seal a kiss against her mouth.

It's open and sultry and further melts her insides into mush.

He severs their connection, sets her feet back on the floor, and then leaves her propped against the wall in a sated daze. When he comes back to her, he's cleaned up. His pants are zipped and his belt is closed, but his eyes are still the blackest she's ever seen them.

He rushes her with another kiss and pulls her toward the front door. One of his hands leaves her to open the door blindly. He doesn't pull away until it's open and even then he doesn't go too far.

He kisses her temple and leaves his lips there as he speaks. "See you later, babydoll."

He leans back and winks at her.

"See you around, sweetheart," she replies thickly. She knows she won't, but right now the lie feels kinder than the truth.

In one whirlwind motion he kisses her deeply and backs out the door. The door clicks shut behind him and the world goes still. She's left with the same question from the first time he walked out her door:

_Now what?_


	6. 5 Written In The Stars

**A/N: **Finished writing chapter 10 so here I am posting chapter five. This is another longer chapter. Also, yes, here there be smut. Just a warning lol. Thanks you guys so much for all the comments/reviews and encouragement! The fact that you guys are excited about this story keeps me excited about it too!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Chapter Five: Written in the Stars

* * *

"I'm asking you baby 'cause I'm tired of asking myself (tired of asking myself),

Are we just a backseat, trying to get it while we can?

Are we names in a tattoo or just a number on a hand?

Are we last-call kissing, are we dancing in the kitchen,

baby, tell me what it is or what it isn't?

Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?"

-"Written in the Stars" by Old Dominion

* * *

Wednesday morning she walks into her office, missing Wyatt more than she thinks is healthy, and sits down at her desk. It figures she meets a guy who makes her feel more than casual interest (who also happens to be the best sex of her life) and he lives nearly 400 miles away. When he left neither discussed if they would see each other again or when.

He just..._left_.

Granted, he left in a spectacular fashion and it took her the rest of the day to recover, (she'll also never look at the wall by her door again without imagining how it felt to be pressed against it) but he still _left_ without even mentioning seeing her again.

They've exchanged a few texts here and there throughout the work week, but nothing to indicate if they plan to be together again soon. She doesn't know if she should ask or let him bring it up first. Maybe he feels more casual about them than she does. She hopes that's not the case, but the precedence established in her dating history indicates otherwise.

She sets up her laptop and opens her emails. She has an alarming number of them waiting on her. They're just over a month away from the start of the term and more and more emails are being exchanged between the faculty.

She scans through them, deciding to focus on work instead of being preoccupied with Wyatt, and eventually one catches her eye. Catches her eye in the way police lights in your rear view instill a sense of dread, that is. Because that's what she feels. _Dread_.

Stanford wants a faculty member from UCLA involved in a panel they're holding about the Lincoln Assassination. It's essentially a debate on the timeline and the circumstances surrounding his assassination, whether or not it could have been prevented, and how the nation may have changed if Lincoln had lived. The topic at hand is interesting and it's an innovative way to try to pull in new students.

The event itself isn't what fills her with dread.

No, it's the message that's addressed to her above the forwarded invitation.

_Lucy, wasn't this, more or less, the topic of your last book?_

Her boss has set a trap that Lucy has no choice but to fall right into. The minute she responds with a yes it'll be her name attached to that panel. One of the other names on that panel likely being Carol Preston. Or if not Carol then Jonas Lyger. Both are thoroughly knowledgeable on Lincoln.

She's so screwed.

She has painstakingly avoided anything to do with Stanford, her mother, or Jonas in the year since she accepted her position at UCLA. Now, the running is finally catching up to her. Or rather Carol and Jonas are catching up to her.

She cannot do this. But she can't say no, either.

_Fuck_.

She sucks in a deep fortifying breath as she types.

_Yes, actually, it was. How interesting that they would select such a similar topic for a panel._

Not interesting. It's on purpose. Her mother did this. She knows it.

_Great! Are you free? Should I send them your name? We need Stanford to owe us as many favors as we can get. Considering how tightly Carol Preston hoards their artifact collection._

In the privacy of her office she lets out an audible groan. She can read the subtext between those lines. He may as well have said "_She's your mother. You're our ticket to easier access to research materials" _because that's exactly what he means.

_I'm free. I'll be happy to go._

Ugh, maybe Amy is willing to shoot her before Friday morning? She has to owe her a favor of some kind. Amy always owes Lucy a favor. And getting shot is the only way she's getting out of this.

And that's exactly what she says to her sister when she calls her a few minutes later.

"Why _the fuck_ would you agree to that?" Amy asks her with an exasperated sigh.

"I didn't have a choice! It was made clear to me that it's important to the university that I go."

"Well, it's important for your sanity that you stay far away from mom. As your sister I can say, fuck UCLA because your emotional stability is way more important," Amy says angrily. "And that's exactly what you should have emailed your boss."

"Uh, no thanks, I need this job. I'd also like to be considered for tenure _somewhere_ which would become a lot harder if I got fired," she says with a sigh.

Amy growls softly into the phone and then takes a moment to breathe. Lucy's the older sister and, according to stereotypes, should be the protective one, but that's never been the case with her and Amy. Amy protects, Lucy nurtures. Amy wants to protect her now but there's not much either of them can do. Lucy will be seeing Carol Preston this weekend whether she likes it or not.

Both girls love their mother but the most important relationship in their lives is each other. Carol pushed Lucy too much and practically ignored everything Amy accomplished. There was no happy medium then and there never can be now. So, when everything blew up last year, Amy chose Lucy over Carol. Because Lucy genuinely cares about Amy and Amy about her. They gain nothing from each other besides love and affection and that's how they like it. Their mother, though, only cares about people as long as they're useful.

After a long tense silence, Amy exhales slowly and then says. "Well, there is one good thing about you going to Stanford."

"What's that?" Lucy asks with a scoff.

"Wyatt Logan."

Oh god, she's right.

Wyatt lives in Palo Alto. She can see him. An eager gasp escapes her before she can stop it. That just might make facing her mother worth it. Except...she doesn't know where in Palo Alto he lives or even where he works. She knows what he does, but not where. Which is mildly frustrating, considering how much Wyatt knows about _her. _So, that would mean…

"I would have to text him to see if he's free."

"So? _Do it_."

"I don't know, Amy. What if he doesn't want to see me?"

"You're shitting me, right?" Amy asks in a droll tone.

"He's yet to mention even the remote possibility of seeing me again."

"He drove 7 hours for you."

"No, he drove 7 hours for his boss. I was just a bonus."

"Bullshit," Amy tells her firmly. "You said that he said he could have sent someone else, right? But he _chose_ to come because it meant seeing you."

"Yeah, but...you don't think it's different coming to see someone because you have an excuse rather than coming to see someone because you want to?" Lucy asks as she nibbles on her bottom lip worriedly.

Amy pauses and grunts thoughtfully. "Didn't think about it that way."

"Yeah, see? What if last weekend was just convenient?"

"Well...I mean, that's what this is for _you _this time, right?" She asks. "You have an excuse and it's convenient. Plus, don't you _want_ to see him?" Amy asks.

"More than anything," Lucy answers on a breath as she absently rubs the hickey he left behind. Not to self: sound less eager when seeing or talking to Wyatt.

"Then own that shit," Amy urges her. "Show up after your panel in one of your sexy professor blazers and rock his world."

Own it. _Own it_. She can do that. Maybe. Possibly. But there's still a problem. "Sure, show up and own it. But show up _where_? I don't know where he works or lives. And to arrange for a meet I would have to let him know I'm coming and if I'm going to do this then I…" she cuts herself off to grin at her own boldness.

"Then you what?"

"I want to surprise him the way he surprised me."

"Oh," Amy says as she draws out the vowel. "I see." Lucy can hear her sister's smirk. "Well, fair is fair, I guess. Have you googled him?"

Lucy blinks at the phone in her hand before answering. "No, I didn't even think of that. But isn't that a bit..._obsessive_?"

"Lucy, he texted me to ask where and when your lecture would get out and I didn't even know he had my number," Amy informs her with a chuckle. "You may not see it, but that guy is just as obsessed as you are." Lucy hears keys clacking through the line. "Okay, here he is. Wyatt Logan, head of security for Mason Industries. _Damn. _He's a big wig over there, sis. He has a profile on their website with one of those professional corporate headshots. Oh! _Look_! An email for appointments! He does consultations for other companies looking to learn from Mason Industries', and I quote, _miraculous_ security stats. Who wrote this copy? It sounds so pompous."

There's more clacking as Amy goes eerily quiet.

"Amy?" Lucy asks warily.

"Gimme a second."

Now she's worried. "No, no second. What are you doing?"

One last loud key is tapped before her sister's victorious voice floats over the line. "There! One appointment secured for Ruth Henry of Lyatt Enterprises! She's head of security for a tech start up and is looking for pointers."

Lucy's brow furrows as she tries to filter through the nonsense Amy's spouting. "I'm sorry, _what?"_

Amy sighs loudly. "Luce, _you _are Ruth Henry of Lyatt Enterprises."

"Oh no. No, no, no! Tell me you didn't!"

"Okay, I didn't." One beat and then. "But I did. Friday at 4:30. That leaves you plenty of time to go to your hotel and change into a tight little pencil skirt and stilettos before playing out that competing CEOs office quickie fantasy we all have every now and then."

"I don't need to fantasize about an office quickie. I've had one and it wasn't great."

Her sister audibly gags over the phone. "Yeah, but that was with _Jonas_. Jonas is not Wyatt. No where close. Live a little, Lucy. Besides, it's too late now. I've made the appointment. He'll be disappointed if he doesn't get to meet Ms. Henry of Lyatt Enterprises."

"Lyatt Enterprises?" She asks tiredly. She knew where the names came from. It was their grandmother's name and their father's name. But Lyatt Enterprises?

"Lucy plus Wyatt equals Lyatt. It's your couple name. Deal with it."

"We can't have a couple name if we're not a couple," Lucy replies with a roll of her eyes.

Amy laughs brightly. "I'm guessing you don't watch the CW then. Two people stare at each other for a second and suddenly they've got a name. Being a couple isn't what earns you a couple name, my nerdy older sister. No, no, the _chemistry_ does that and you and Wyatt have chemistry to spare. Seriously, it's as thick as the LA smog."

Okay, fair point. "What does it say about me that I actually understood that?"

"It says that you want to show up at Mr. Logan's office in your tightest most _professional_ skirt and your tallest least professional heels and seduce him until he breaks."

She feels heat all over her body at the image, settling low in her stomach. Oh god, Amy's right, that _is _what that means.

"What has gotten into me?" Lucy asks, more to herself than Amy.

"Wyatt Logan," Amy answers. "In more ways than one, if you know what I mean."

Her sister's lewd cackle is the last thing Lucy hears before she hangs up.

"Brat," she says with a laugh as she rolls her eyes at the darkened screen of her phone. But really, she thinks, no one ever had a better sister or friend than Amy Preston.

* * *

"Dude, you're freaking everyone out."

"What?" Wyatt asks in confusion. "How?"

"You're smiling!" Dave answers. "With teeth! You never do that!"

"Oh come on, I smile...sometimes."

"You really don't," Jiya counters from her nearby work station. "I, for one, had no idea your teeth were so _white_. Do you get them brightened?"

Wyatt scowls at her and rolls his eyes.

"Ah, now _that's_ the Wyatt I remember," Jiya replies with a laugh. "Though, come to think of it, you've been much easier to deal with since you got back from vacation."

"What did I say? I told you a vacation would do you good," Dave says with a smirk as he leans against Jiya's desk.

Jiya's eyes narrow and her perceptive gaze flits over Wyatt before she smiles slowly at him. The young engineer is too good at reading all of them. It's a little disconcerting. Wyatt shifts his weight nervously and then turns away from her to walk toward Rufus's empty neighboring desk.

"Yeah, as much as I hate to say it," Wyatt says with a weak smile at Dave. "You were right, for once."

"I don't know," Jiya says as her eyes go back to her monitor. "I get the feeling the vacation isn't what helped."

Dave quirks a brow at her in interest. "What are you saying? That Master Sergeant 'I'll-Wait-For-The-Lightning-Thanks' Logan might have met someone? You think?"

Jiya turns her chair to face Wyatt and smirks. "I don't know. Maybe we should ask him. What, exactly, did you get up to in Los Angeles until the early morning Monday hours, Wyatt? You were late to the Monday afternoon staff meeting. You're _never_ late."

"Oh, true! I forgot about that. You got stuck in traffic on the way back from L.A. even though…" Dave pauses and then grins knowingly at Wyatt. "Your last building tour was Saturday at noon. What were you doing for a day and some change, bro?"

"Or, more appropriately, _who_?" Jiya asks as she rests her elbows on her arm rests and steeples her fingers, as though she's caught him red-handed.

Wyatt rolls his eyes at her dramatics. "Where's Rufus and Mason? If I'm answering this question I want all of you together so I don't have to repeat myself."

Jiya's eyes widen excitedly and she leaps from her chair. "Oh my god! I'm actually _right?_ Holy shit! _You _met someone!"

"This is huge!" Dave says with a wide smile.

"That's what she said," Jiya says with a wicked grin. "You know, whoever _she_ is."

Dave laughs loudly and holds out his fist to Jiya. "Nice!"

They bump fists and give Wyatt matching triumphant looks.

Rufus and Mason come around the corner, looking over plans of some kind on a shared tablet, but once Rufus spots the looks on Dave and Jiya's faces he stops mid stride and grins.

His eyes find his girlfriend's. "Did you ask him?"

"Perfect timing! He won't answer me without you and Mason here. Which means his answer _must_ be good," Jiya answers. Once Rufus is close enough she grabs his wrist and pulls him down into his own desk chair.

"Oh, a big dramatic press conference, hm?" Mason asks with a chuckle. "I only hold those when the news is exceptionally good or exceptionally bad. What's this then?"

"I asked Wyatt what kept him in L.A. until Monday morning," Jiya tells him before giving Wyatt a challenging look. "We're all here. You won't have to repeat yourself. Out with it."

He sighs tiredly but can't resist giving her a small smile. If he had a kid sister, he imagines she would be a lot like Jiya.

"Yes, okay, I was with someone last weekend. We met on vacation. She lives in L.A. so I stayed over to see her," Wyatt admits sheepishly.

He's never had so many people interested in his life before. His mother died when he was young. His father was a bastard. The only people to ever take an interest in him, personally, before were his grandfather and Jessica. And now the four people currently staring at him with overjoyed expressions.

"Name!" Jiya exclaims as she turns back to her computer. "I need a name!"

Wyatt laughs and shakes his head. "Hell no. I'm not throwing her at you guys this early. You'll meet her when I'm ready for you to meet her. Let us figure out what the hell we're actually doing first."

Rufus's brow furrows in confusion. "What does that mean? You don't know what you're doing?"

"Both times we've said goodbye we haven't actually made more plans to see each other. Last weekend was a bit impulsive, honestly. I just..._showed up_, and then on Monday I left without making more plans. I'm not sure if she's wanting something more serious or more casual? I'm too chicken to ask and she hasn't mentioned it so...I don't know what we're doing," he tells them with a frustrated huff. "I'm a little rusty at this dating thing. Not sure what conversations we're supposed to have when, you know?"

"Guess you'll have to man up and ask," Dave adds with half of a smile. "That's the only way to find out."

"If you like her, Wyatt, then you'll have to tell her," Mason agrees. "She's not a mind reader." He stops, looks thoughtful, and then adds. "But if she happens to be a mind reader then I'd like to study her if at all possible. Humanely, of course."

They all turn to give him incredulous expressions.

"You can't be serious?" Wyatt asks with a scoffing laugh.

He shrugs and then goes back to staring at his tablet. "Just throwing it out there. Stranger things have happened. Rufus, Anthony, Emma, and I almost cracked time travel once, you know."

"_Almost_ is a bit of a stretch," Rufus amends with a modest smile. "But yeah, that's true. It's slightly unfortunate that Homeland Security approached us about those defense contracts and we were forced to shelve it."

"The mere feat of it would have been astounding but no bloody way am I letting any government gain access to time travel. What a ruddy hellscape that would be," Mason says with a shudder. "No, the world is better off without time travel. Too many ways that could end _horribly_."

"Plus, no one wants to visit a time before deodorant," Rufus says while nodding introspectively. "Or civil rights."

Jiya and Mason point at Rufus to indicate their agreement.

Wyatt and Dave exchange a sardonic look that indicates their disbelief at even being a witness to this conversation.

"Anyway," Wyatt says with a stunned shake of his head. "We've texted a little since I left but I just...don't want to talk this out over text or the phone. I don't know what to do."

"That's easy," Jiya says with a confident smile. "You go back to LA, first thing Saturday morning and you tell her what you want. Either she says no and you come back home or she's on the same page as you and you stay the weekend. Problem solved, answers acquired. What did you say her name was?" She speeds into the question so fast that he almost answers her without thinking.

Thankfully, he catches it as Lucy's name hits the tip of his tongue. "I didn't, and I'm not going to."

"Dammit," Jiya curses. "I'll get it out of you. Sooner or later."

"Right, because it's not like I'm trained in how to handle an interrogation or anything," Wyatt answers with a laugh. "That's cute, Marri."

He's still replaying her steely determination in his head as he and Dave walk back to his office. He grins at Rufus's crack about time travel and deodorant, Mason's odd request to study a mind reader—All of it makes him suddenly grateful for this job and the people it brought into his life. He may not have much actual family, but he has _them_. He's been a part of many teams throughout his career, but none as quirky or tight knit as this one. He can't imagine ever leaving them.

* * *

Friday morning comes sooner than she wants. She gets off the plane at a horribly early hour and heads straight to Stanford. She's led to a locker room attached to one of the fitness facilities where she dresses and makes herself look confident and presentable. She's then led to the lecture hall where the panel will take place.

And, as she expects, the sign on the stage doesn't even _mention_ UCLA. No, instead it has her picture and her mother's picture side by side. Their names are in huge type underneath them, along with a listing of the two books they co-authored. She sighs and fights the temptation to flee. She's a goddamn professional and her mother is no longer her boss. They are colleagues. Professional peers. She can do this.

She thinks about Wyatt on their first morning together and the conversation they had about bravery. Wyatt wanted to make sure the people he cared about were proud of him and that superseded his fear. She bites her bottom lip and pictures Amy in her mind. She takes a deep breath and imagines telling this story to her sister when the weekend ends. She imagines her protective and angry face if Lucy lets her fear control her, and then she imagines the powerful feeling of Amy's approval. Her bright, _proud, _face as Lucy tells her she remained composed with her head held high.

_That's _the face that keeps her feet moving down the aisle toward the stage. Closer and closer to Carol Preston.

"Lucy!" Her mother exclaims in relief. She rushes her with a hug, but Lucy doesn't move. She simply stands there, limp, as her mother pulls her in. "I'm so happy to see you. It's been so long, sweetheart."

Sweetheart reminds her of Wyatt. She clears her throat and steps out of her mother's embrace.

"Yes, it has," She replies stiffly. "UCLA keeps me busy."

"I bet," Carol says with a proud grin. "They need you more than you need them."

Lucy forces her brow to _not_ furrow. "I'm fairly certain it's a reciprocal relationship, mom. I need tenure. They need grant money. Within the next five years or so they might be willing to make a deal. You know how it works."

"It also can't hurt that you're a Preston," her mother preens.

"I'm sure it doesn't," Lucy says dryly.

So, her mother hasn't changed much then? She's still all about their name and their "legacy." Today is just as much about her dream of passing Stanford on to Lucy as it is about recruiting new students for their history departments. That's why her mother is being so _nice_. The last time they talked they ended up screaming at each other. They had a plan, her mother said. Stick to the plan, Lucy. We'll have everything we want. It's the same thing she said to her after her accident in college, when Lucy debated dropping out to tour with a band. There's just one problem with sticking to the plan…

_It isn't Lucy's fucking plan._

"Let's just get through this," Lucy says to her mother as she checks the time on her phone.

Her mother looks hurt and she has to shove down the guilt along with the impulse to appease her mother's feelings. She doesn't have to do that anymore.

"Right, of course," her mother says as the silence lingers between them.

She looks wounded, dejected. Lucy starts to wonder if maybe she's being too hard on her mother. She's been encouraging and supportive so far. Maybe she's actually trying? If she is trying then shouldn't Lucy keep an open mind? You only get one birth mother, after all.

She's just about to say something a bit kinder to her mother when Carol speaks again as they walk up the steps to the stage.

"You know, Jonas has been asking about you."

"Not going to happen, mom," Lucy says sternly.

"Sweetheart, you were engaged to him. Don't you think you owe it to him to work on that relationship? I mean, surely, if you loved him enough to want to marry him then forgiveness is possible, isn't it? He's been such a wreck since you left and, in the interest of full disclosure, so have I. You're needed _here_ at Stanford. Not UCLA—"

"Stop," Lucy requests quietly. She should know better. Her mother isn't trying. She never will.

"I understand wanting to find yourself. I certainly purposefully lost myself for a time, but it's been a year. It's time to come back and face your life. Your responsibility to Jonas, our family name, and _me_. You can't run forever, Lu—"

"Stop!" She yells. She holds her hands out in front of her and shuts her eyes tight.

The stress and the guilt and the pressure to be the person who would make her mother proud are all returning. But she will not fall into this trap. They will not _pick up right where they left off_. Lucy knows better now. A mother's love isn't something to _work for_. It should be given freely and unconditionally.

Carol Preston's love has _many_ conditions.

"Lucy," her mother scolds. "Please, be an adult."

Ah, there she is. The kind disposition finally cracks. Her mother isn't trying. No, she was being nice to lure Lucy into a false sense of security. She wanted her guard down in the hopes that she could manipulate her into staying.

"I am an adult, mother," Lucy tells her through gritted teeth as students begin pouring in and taking their seats. "I'm just not the adult you wanted me to be. _Get over it_."

Her mother eyes their new audience and then pastes on a kind smile. "We'll talk about it after."

Lucy lets out a hollow laugh and shakes her head. "Like hell we will. You had your chance, and you just blew it. I am doing this panel because it's my _job_, but after that I'm done. I have other things to do and more important people to see."

The sound of her own heels clicking on the hardwood stage is as deafening as the beat of her heart when she finally manages to take her assigned seat. _She did it_. She saw her mother and didn't weaken. She held her own damn ground.

Amy's beaming face appears against her closed eyelids and she knows - without a doubt - that she's made her baby sister proud.

She made it through the panel with as much professional courtesy as was appropriate. She debated, back and forth, with her mother with civility and respect. She threw in things she knew her mother couldn't stand. Pop culture references, modern slang - anything that might make history seem _hip_.

Her mother tried to guilt that out of her too once upon a time, but Lucy isn't the same sort of professor as Carol Preston and she refuses to think that's a bad thing. Her job is to make history engaging, and that's exactly what she's doing.

Once the panel is finished they shake hands, but her mother surprises her by pulling her in for another hug. While close to her ear Carol whispers and her words nearly cause Lucy to push her away in panic and fear.

"I meant what I said, Lucy. You can't run from us forever. You'll have to face the life you abandoned eventually. I'll be _right here_ when that happens."

Why do those words leave her wanting to curl up into a ball and sob? It isn't anything different or new. Carol yelled those same things to her the night she left.

But, this time, they feel…

_Inescapable._

Nothing triggers claustrophobia more than an _inescapable _situation.

She practically runs from the event. She walks at least a mile before she thinks to call an Uber to get her to her hotel. After she's checked in and locked away in her room she realizes she has several hours until Wyatt. Plenty of time to wallow and cry in private.

When mothers were being assigned, why couldn't she be given one that just wants her to be happy in her own way? Why does hers insist that happiness has one inflexible definition? She starts the shower and only makes it a few minutes before she's sinking down against the wall and feeling the full weight of her mother's disappointed face. Nothing she does will ever be good enough unless it's _exactly _what her mother wants.

_Nothing she does will ever be good enough._

_Not. Good. Enough._

Get it together, Preston, she thinks as she angrily wipes her cheeks.

You have an appointment. You have a silver lining.

You have _Wyatt._

A soft smile forms on her face at the thought of him and it quickly turns dangerous.

And he has no idea she's coming.

The tears can wait. She has someone she's eager to see.

* * *

He's been staring at his phone on and off again every day since that conversation with his friends. Should he tell her he's coming this time? What if she doesn't want to see him? Or worse - what if she has a date already? His eyes narrow into a glare as he remembers Noah. _Asshat._

But if she's going to turn him down then isn't it better if he just shows up? He can say his piece, see her reaction for himself, and then leave her alone. Or not. Maybe his luck will change and things will go well?

Yeah, he's not counting on that.

He mostly wishes the workday would end and time would tick faster. He can't see her, whether she knows he's coming or not, until tomorrow. He's normally pretty patient, but waiting to see _her_ is torture.

She's captivating and intelligent and damn funny. She's beautiful but somehow doesn't know it and touching her feels like electricity. Like a current that kick starts his heart _every time._

But, before he can really focus on a problem like Lucy Preston, he has one more appointment. With someone from a company named Lyatt Enterprises. He's never heard of them, but the comment on the appointment says the company is new. Likely a tech start-up from the sound of it. It should be easy. Just answer their questions, pass on a few tips, offer constructive criticism. He's done it at least a hundred times before. He can do it with his eyes closed — or while distracted by visions of Lucy.

His receptionist informs him that his last appointment is in his office, waiting. He nods and then returns his focus to the last text he received from Lucy. She texted him about a student who suddenly emailed her a paper...from last semester. He grins at the gif she sent with it of Jim Halpert from _the Office_, making his signature face at his computer screen. His reply had been a gif of Stanley from the same show, dramatically rolling his eyes with the words "_Kids today."_ She accused him of sounding like an old man who wanted those young 'whipper snappers' to get off his lawn.

It's a harmless conversation that will lead to nothing. He enjoys those conversations. He's not really complaining, but he doesn't know how to get from that to the topic of what they want to be to each other. Maybe he should tell her about Jiya and how she saw straight through his good mood? Would that properly broach the subject?

His office door closes behind him and a throat clears.

That's when he remembers the person in his office and realizes he's being _very rude_. His Grandpa would tear him a new one for it.

"I'm so sorry," he offers lamely as he pulls his phone away from his face. "That wasn't the best introduction. Let's start ov—"

Any words that may have filled the air in his office are immediately cut off because when he lifts his head he doesn't see a stuffy executive standing in front of him.

No, he sees _Lucy_.

Her hair is swept back into a smooth bun, her hips are squeezed in a tight grey pencil skirt, her feet are fitted with stiletto pumps, and a form hugging blazer covers a crisp white wrap blouse. It's as if she's stepped right out of his overactive imagination.

He's certain his mouth is hanging open (there might be an embarrassing drool situation happening) and that his eyes are as wide as saucers, but can she blame him? This is the last thing he was expecting. In fact, he wonders…

"Lucy?" He croaks out. "Is that you or am I dreaming?"

She chuckles and then gives him a full smile, her pretty lips curving perfectly, before responding. "It's me. I, um, I took your last appointment." Her eyes sweep over him hungrily before landing on his. He can see nerves hiding under her false confidence. "Surprise?"

The nerves convince him she's real. Only the real Lucy would run headfirst into this and doubt herself afterward.

He reaches behind him and turns the lock on his office door, praying his receptionist won't hear the click, and then crosses the room to her in two large strides. He's scooped her up and sat her down on the edge of his desk before she can possibly manage a protest. His hands skim the outside of her thighs through her skirt and then he finally does what he's been thinking about the entire week.

He kisses her senseless.

When they have to pull back for air, Lucy laughs joyfully and then smirks at him.

"So, this was a _good_ surprise?"

"The _best_ surprise," he answers as he presses his forehead to hers. He knows he's smiling like a loon but he doesn't much care. "What are you doing here?"

She runs her fingers through his hair as she replies. "I was on a panel at Stanford today and I thought...well I couldn't resist seeing you while I was here. But you didn't make it easy on me. You told me what you do but you never told me where or for who. It took Amy and Google to get me an appointment."

His brow furrows in confusion. "I—I didn't tell you where I work?"

She shakes her head at him dismissively but, like every other emotion with her, he sees her true heart in her eyes. A bit of hurt flashes across them. "Not once."

"I'm sorry," he says as he tries to think back over all of their conversations. "I thought I had." She's right, though, he hasn't. That's strange. Why did he think he had?

"Not a big deal," she says with an easy smile, but he can spot the crack in it. "It's fine."

It isn't.

"You want a tour?" He asks as he points over his shoulder to the locked door. "I can't show you the R&D labs but I can show you everything else."

He can tell offering the tour was the right move. Her features soften instantly and her hands smooth over the shoulders of his wrinkled jacket with relaxed movements.

"Maybe later," she says as she looks up at him with a sultry half-lidded gaze. "I believe you started something when you perched me on your desk, Soldier. Do you plan to finish it?"

Oh, does he ever.

He brings his hand up to her shoulder and his thumb lands on the now-faded mark he left on her neck. He wants to leave a matching one on the other side before the weekend is over. "Don't you worry, ma'am. I'll finish it. But first, I just want to note that you wear the part of CEO a little too well. _Wow_." He reaches under the blazer to untie her wrap around blouse. He tugs lightly and the knot breaks loose. The blouse falls open to reveal a tight thin camisole tucked into her skirt. He pulls the camisole out from the waist of the skirt, and then leans forward to place his lips against Lucy's ear. "The skirt and the heels alone are enough to drive me a bit wild."

She sucks in a breath as his hands slide under the bottom of the camisole and then push it upward. He exposes more and more of her creamy skin until the camisole is gathered in a thin band across the top curves of her breasts. He leans down and kisses a trail over her stomach. She settles back on the heels of her hands to allow him easier access. When he reaches the top of her skirt, his hands go to her hips and move backward until he finds the zipper. He leads it downward and then grips the skirt where it wraps around her knees and slides it up at a painstakingly slow pace.

He lets his hands linger over her bare skin a little longer than necessary. Once the skirt sits above her hips, he kneels in front of her and nudges her knees apart. The minute his lips land on the inside of her thigh, she writhes against him. He kisses up one thigh, gently, and then the other before he reaches the main event. She expects him to slide the underwear down her legs, he can tell by the way she shifts her body. Instead, he continues forward and finds her center through the black lace.

The breathy way she moans his name serves as the perfect encouragement. He continues to lick and kiss through the fabric until she's no longer able to sit up. Instead of holding herself upright, she lays back on the desk and fists her hands in his hair. She's close and, if he's honest, the sounds she's been making have him damn close too.

He lifts himself from between her legs to find her mouth and seal it against his. Her arms wrap around his shoulders. As she desperately presses herself closer to him, he nips at her bottom lip. He keeps her distracted by kisses while he reaches in his back pocket for his wallet. He flips through the folds until he finds the foil wrapper he's started keeping again - _since her_.

_For her._

Her kisses move from his lips to his jaw and then to his neck while her hands slide under his jacket and feel up and down his stomach. Her lips are sucking and licking and he smirks as he realizes what she's doing.

"Is that revenge, Professor?" He asks with a laugh.

She stops, just long enough to reply. "Fair is fair, Logan."

While she's leaving her mark, her hands feel down the length of his arms until they reach his hands. She entwines their fingers and then loosens the grip of one of them enough to enclose around the still wrapped condom.

Between them, she brings in one hand and begins to unfasten his belt, his fly, and then push his pants and boxers down to his knees. She's determined to multitask, and he's happy to let her. It's sexy as hell. He hears the packet tear and then a raw guttural sound is ripped from his throat as one of her slender hands wraps around him. He's been hard since he deposited her onto his desk so, even though he tries not to, on instinct he thrusts. She smiles against his throat and then glides open mouthed kisses up until she captures his lips again.

Her thumb caresses over the tip of him and his body quakes from head to toe. Holding himself together has never been so difficult with anyone else. Only her. She tests every limit of self control he has.

"I could finish the job just like this," she says against his lips. She kisses him once deeply before she continues. "Nothing you could do to stop me, and you've done enough to be there _just _for me before. It would be wrong of me to not return the favor." Her voice lowers to a whisper. "Don't you think?"

"Roll the condom on, Preston," he demands through gritted teeth.

"I don't know," she says thoughtfully. "I like the idea of having you at my mercy like this."

_Torture_. She's torturing him. He groans and wraps his hand around her wrist. "I want _you_. Here and now. On my goddamn desk. With both of us halfway clothed. And if you don't put that condom on me right now, I think I might spontaneously combust."

"Oh, well," she says as she ghosts a kiss over his mouth. "We can't have that, can we?"

He hisses in relief as she starts to roll the condom over him and then tenses again at just how close to _losing it_ he really is. The second the condom is secured, he's pressing her against the desk and shoving her underwear aside. He doesn't just want her, he _needs _her. There's no time to waste. He doesn't have enough willpower to ease them into it anymore. He lines himself up and then pushes inside of her with one rapid thrust.

Lucy cries out, curses, and then holds onto him for dear life. He's rocking hard against her and she's meeting him movement for movement. He's thrusting deep and rough. This isn't gentle or tender or even affectionate.

It's uninhibited and _harsh_.

He feels her fluttering and tightening around him. He can hear the increased rhythm of her breathing and he knows she's right on the edge. The way she's been moving with him, so in sync, has him there with her. But their both losing it now. They're clumsier, less focused. It's hard to keep time when you're floating through space, which is exactly how he feels when Lucy suddenly arches up against him, tensing all over her body.

The feeling of her constricting around him sends him floating right along with her. He tries to swallow their noises with kisses, but he thinks he was only partially successful. It's hard to tell through his own release.

They lock eyes as they're catching their breath and laugh with matching expressions of disbelief.

"Did we just do that?" He asks. "I know I asked this earlier, but are we _sure_ I'm not dreaming?"

"If anyone is dreaming, it's me. _Holy shit_. Is that what an office quickie is _supposed_ to be like?"

He grins and places a lazy kiss on her lips. "I don't know. Never had an office quickie before."

Her face is flushed but he thinks he sees a blush anyway. "I...have. Once. But it was _nothing_ like _that_. Oh my god, Wyatt. I'm pretty sure I saw stars or levitated or something. Jesus."

For the first time since he started working at Mason, he's relieved his office has a private half bath. It always seemed excessive before, but now he knows it will come in handy. He kisses her forehead with a quiet laugh and then leaves her to dispose of the condom. When he comes back she's still sitting on the desk, looking beautiful and stunned.

"You think you can walk, Preston?" He asks with a crooked smirk.

She rolls her eyes playfully, and then slides off the desk on wobbly legs. "God, you're full of yourself."

"Hey, you just told me you think you may have levitated while we were having sex. You can't blame me for feeling pretty damn confident," he tells her as he helps her straighten her camisole and her blouse. His big bumbling hands actually manage to tie the blouse closed for her and when he meets her eyes again he finds them regarding him fondly.

"I think I've got it from here, Wyatt," she says warmly. She places a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips before moving around him to the half bath. He hears the sink running and sees a shadow of movement around the corner. He assumes she's cleaning up and dealing with her skirt.

"You hungry?" He calls out.

"Famished."

"Good, I'm taking you to dinner," he says as picks his wallet up off the floor and straightens his tie. "Where are you staying?"

She steps back out into his office, skirt just as perfect as it was when he first saw her, and picks her purse up from one of his office chairs.

"I have a room the Sheraton," she replies.

He clears his throat awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck. Hopefully, she doesn't hate his next suggestion. "You could, you know, check out of the Sheraton and stay with me."

He watches as she bites back a beaming smile. "I...I was hoping you'd say that."

"So, check out _then_ dinner?" He asks.

She takes in a deep contented breath and nods. "Check out _then_ dinner."

Guess he isn't going to have to drive to Los Angeles tomorrow, after all. Now he just has to get up the nerve to let her know what he wants and cross his fingers that she wants the same thing. Easy, right? If he can face down enemy combatants in the Middle East with just a bit of kevlar and a rifle then he can certainly _talk_ to the girl he likes about actually _dating _her.

_Right?_ He swallows thickly and absently rubs his sweaty palms on his slacks. _Yes_. He can and he _will_.

Mind over matter, Logan. Get it together.

They check Lucy out of the hotel and then head toward one of Wyatt's favorite places. It's a small brewpub with good burgers and house made chips. Before they get out of his car, Lucy takes down her hair and stashes her hair pins in his glove box. She rubs the back of her head and fluffs the sides of her hair.

"Good?" She asks as she turns to face him.

"Good," he replies, leaning across the middle console to kiss her slowly. When he's done, one hand finds a strand of hair and wraps it around his fingers. "In case I forgot to tell you before, I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here too," she tells him with an affectionate smile.

Something moves across her face, suddenly. A shadow of some feeling he's seen only once before. The last time she looked like that she threw out a surprising truth about her mother. He thinks back to the reason she's here. _Stanford_. She left Stanford to get away from her mother yet she was there for a good portion of the day.

"Lucy," he starts reluctantly. "You said you were at Stanford today, right?"

She nods but looks away from him. The nodding sends some of her hair falling over her face. His view of her eyes is obstructed.

"Did you...I mean — how did that go?" He asks. He's not quite sure they're in a place where he can directly ask her about her mother, but based on her behavior he would bet good money something happened before she came to see him.

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. He hears her breathing in and out deliberately before she finally answers him. "I don't know," she admits. "I thought well, but then...I don't know."

With the knowledge that he never told her where he worked, he realizes he hasn't actually shared much of anything at all. He decides this is one situation where his horrible past might help someone. Plus, she deserves an even trade of information. He's never been good at that. Not before the Army and certainly not after, but he's willing to try for her.

"If there's anyone that knows about difficult parents," he tells her. "It's me. My old man was a mean son of a bitch. A hateful drunk. Parents have the ability to make us feel...worthless whether we want them to or not. I know you mentioned you don't get along with your mother so if you need to talk about it…" He lets his sentence trail off, knowing she understands him.

"I stood up to her," she says softly. "I really did. I don't intend to be a doormat any longer. And it was going so well. I was professional and courteous but distant. _Firm._"

He doesn't know everything that went on with her mother but he can tell by the heartbreak in her eyes that it was something significant. "That's good, Luce. You did good."

"But then at the end—" She stops and rubs a hand over her eyes, which tells him she may start crying at any moment.

He digs around the compartment in his driver's side door until he finds a stack of fast food napkins and hands them to her. She grins weakly at the offering and sniffles as she accepts them.

"Then?" He prompts.

Lucy lets out a shaky sigh before she speaks again. "You can't run from us forever. You'll have to face the life you abandoned eventually. I'll be _right here_ when that happens." Her tone and her inflection doesn't sound like her own. She's imitating someone else and he knows immediately who despite having never met Lucy's mother. "She's...she's right. I've been running away from my old life and eventually there won't be anywhere left to run. _Eventually_." The word is choked out on a thin exhale.

"I'll have to face up to her being disappointed in me and find a way to live with it because I'm not going to be that Lucy ever again. The one who does what her mother tells her because she's so _desperate_ for her approval or the one who judges her successes and failures by her mother's opinion. That Lucy felt trapped in her own life and I _won't_ be her again. Nothing was ever good enough for her even when I was following her plan for me. I was _never_ good enough. Not for her. Certainly not for J—never mind. I just...Do you know what it's like to know your only parent will _never_ be proud of what you accomplish? No matter how happy that accomplishment makes you? Because that's been my _entire_ life with her. Never. Good. _Enough_."

There's someone else in this equation and he wonders if it's the ex Amy almost told him about at the bar that first night. But, for now, that's not important. What's important is what she just admitted about her mother.

Because he knows _exactly_ what she means. He didn't think anyone else would get it, but right here in his car is a woman who feels the same devastation as him. Of all the women he could have met and struck up a connection with the Universe gave him _her_. He's struck by a touch of a kismet, and he's by no means a spiritual person.

"I actually know that feeling backwards and forwards, Lucy," he says honestly. "My dad was the same way. It didn't matter what I did. It was never going to make him happy unless it suited _his_ needs. He never gave a damn about what I wanted or who I was. The first person to ever be proud of me was my grandfather. So, yeah, I know exactly what that's like. I've lived with it since the day I was born."

"How did you get passed it?" She asks as she dabs at her wet eyes with one of the napkins.

"Well, you don't really, but it does get easier. You just have to realize that your life is bigger than one person and that what you want for yourself takes priority over what other people tell you to be," he advises as he reaches over and takes one of her hands in his. "Seems like you're already on that path. Just stay the course, ma'am. It'll get better."

"I just...I get so embarrassed by it. Some of the things I let myself believe I wanted because _she _wanted them _for me_…" She stops and shakes the melancholy thoughts away. "It doesn't matter. It's in the past. It's over." She bites her bottom lip and gives him a searching glance. "Right?"

He smiles softly and then brings the back of her hand to his lips. "Right." She reaches for the door handle but he squeezes her hand to get her attention. "One last thing, Professor."

She quirks a brow at him curiously. "Yes?"

He meets her eyes with an earnest gaze. "Never let anyone tell you that you aren't good enough. _Y__ou are_. I haven't known you long but what I've seen is a woman who cares deeply — even about historical figures who've been dead for years — and the world needs that kind of passion. Okay? Trust me, I haven't seen enough of it in my lifetime."

Her eyes are watering again and her bottom lip is quivering but there's a smile on her face and a bright shine to her eyes. "I..._wow, Wyatt._ I don't know what to—That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Well, anyone who isn't _Amy_, at least. She's sort of my one person fan club."

Wyatt chuckles and runs his thumb over the back of her hand. "Amy's gonna have to make room in that club for me. Hope she's okay with that, and if not...tough. I'm joining anyway."

Lucy's watery laugh fills the car and he commits the sound of it to memory. The idea that he can make her laugh after an emotional day fills him with far too much pride. He feels like he's accomplished something of substantial importance. He feels like he's contributed to her life in a very real way.

Their new emotional connection follows them through dinner. There's a bond there now that wasn't there before and he relishes it. After dinner they go back to his house, and it takes seeing Lucy wandering around inside of it for him to finally feel _at_ _home_. The house is sparsely decorated because he really has no preference. He likes comfortable and moderately priced — aside from the television. He spent an obscene amount of money on his television. But he knows the house itself is nice. It's older and needs a bit of work that he hasn't gotten around to yet. But it has three bedrooms, a dining room, a formal living room, a huge kitchen, two and a half baths, and a basement. It's big enough for the family the he, truthfully, never plans on having.

Though, maybe plans can change. Nothing's set in stone. After all, he never planned on Lucy either, did he?

"It's so..._eggshell_," Lucy says as she motions to his blank white walls. "Have you ever thought about adding a touch of color?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "No, but I'm listening."

"Just...you know, a nice cool shade of light blue might look good on a wall or two is all I'm saying," she says as she wraps her arms around his middle and curls into him.

"I'll consider it," He says as he kisses the top of her head.

"But aside from the lack of color," she says as she glances around the living room. "It's actually really lovely. Is the stain glass above the front door original?"

His grins crookedly at her. "Oh, you like that, huh?"

She smiles shyly at him. "It adds character. Like the creaky old hardwood floors and the old fashioned moldings." She shrugs and then hugs him a little tighter. "I like things with character."

That's a good thing for him then. He's pretty sure he's got lots of _character _too.

She releases him to slip off her heels and leave them by the door next to his shoes. The image of her heels next to his loafers, hits him hard in the chest. He wants that. He wants that for real. None of this 'will they or won't they' or 'should I ask' drama. He wants _that_. He wants her settling in to his life with the intention of sticking around. He wants to make plans. While these impulsive surprises are amazing, he would enjoy picking her up from the airport just as much.

"What are we doing, Lucy?" Wyatt asks suddenly before he loses his nerve. "You and me, what is this?"

Her eyes widen in panic. He can't tell if she's surprised or appalled.

"What do you want it to be?" She asks in return.

He gives her the first answer that comes to mind. "_Real_."

"Real?"

"I want to be more than a weekend hook up," he admits. "We've spent the last couple of weekends in an accidental long distance relationship and I...I want it to be _on purpose_. I want it to be _real_."

"You do?" She asks hopefully. "You mean that? Seriously?"

"Seriously," he declares with a decisive nod.

"With me?" She asks with a disbelieving look.

"Why not with you?" He asks as he cups the side of her face. "You're acting like it's impossible."

She leans into his touch and sighs. "Sorry, I—I believe you. But...my last relationship ended badly and I won't lie to you, it shook my self confidence. A lot. I—I might come across as a bit needy for a little while, but I swear I'm not. I'm worried if we take this to the next level then I don't know I might..._scare you away_ or something."

His eyes narrow on her closed lids. "Is this the guy that Amy almost told me about? The one you nearly talked about in the car?"

She nods and he can see her physically mustering up the courage to continue. "Jonas Lyger, my ex-fiancé. He cheated on me - with several women. Every time I confronted him he turned it around on me. Made me think I was seeing signs of cheating when there weren't any. My mother still adores him. She thinks he and I are perfect for each other." Lucy stops to open her eyes and let out a bitter scoff. "She even tried to talk me into forgiving him today. But I — it's not just the cheating. He made me feel..._insane_. And then when the truth finally came out, it was somehow all my fault." She pauses and pulls away from Wyatt to lean against the back of his couch. "I'm sorry. We've been talking about me a lot tonight and I—"

"Don't," Wyatt says as he pushes back into her space. "Don't apologize for talking to me. If you want to tell me then I want to know and, for the record, Jonas sounds like a manipulative piece of _shit_. What I told you in the car still stands, Luce. You're enough. If Jonas didn't realize that then he's a douchebag who never deserved you. Bottom line."

"I just...I don't want to fall headfirst into this only to have the safety net ripped out from under me, you know?" Lucy says worriedly. "I don't want to mess this up. I _really _like you, Wyatt."

He grins gently at that and takes both of her hands in his. "I _really_ like you too, Preston. I'm just as scared of messing this up as you are." Especially after how things crashed and burned with Jessica. "But I think…**.** I mean, not to brag on us or anything, but I think we can make it. You and me. I just have a really good feeling about this. _About us._"

A soft smile spreads across her lips and her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. "Us?" She asks. "Did you just refer to you and me as a unit?"

He nods. "I did."

"I—I liked that very much," she confesses bashfully.

"Good, because I think it's going to be happening more often from here on out," he promises.

"I can live with that," Lucy says as she releases his hands to feel her way up his biceps and over his shoulders. She stands and then presses herself against him. "So, even with all that baggage I just admitted, you still want to do this?"

He nods and presses his forehead to hers. So, she has baggage? So does he. "More than anything."

She takes in a deep breath and then speaks as she releases it. "Okay. Let's do this. Let's try long distance. _On purpose_ this time."

He wraps her up and pulls her in for a fierce kiss. He doesn't think he's ever kissed anyone with more elation than the next several kisses he shares with Lucy Preston. They stumble their way upstairs, dropping clothes along the way, until they fall into his bed. A part of him still can't understand how she reciprocates his feelings. She's out of his league on so many levels and yet she's here with him. She actually wants to find out what they could be. _Together_.

* * *

Lucy's flight leaves at noon on Monday, and since Wyatt doesn't have a meeting until two he takes the morning off. Dave was more than happy to pick up his slack since he needs an afternoon off later in the week to get his daughter to her ballet recital, which is apparently more involved than Wyatt realizes. Once the trade is a done deal, Wyatt spends Sunday night relaxing around his house with his arms around Lucy Preston at all times. He even wakes up that way Monday morning.

Waking up with Lucy Preston tucked into his side will never be anything short of amazing. Currently, she's sitting at his kitchen table in nothing but her underwear and one of his old t-shirts. She looks insanely appealing sitting at his small kitchen table with a cup of coffee in her hands and one leg tucked underneath her. She's not wearing any makeup, not that she needs it, and her hair is mussed and wild. She's breathtaking.

He makes them both breakfast and sits down in the chair next to hers.

"So," he asks as he puts her plate down in front of her. "What's the plan?"

She takes a slow sip of her coffee and then puts the mug down on the table. "You have a meeting that you can't miss Saturday morning, right?"

He nods. "Unfortunately. It's to finalize the security measures for the new building in Los Angeles."

"And all I'm doing is writing my book which is work that travels easily," she says as she spears a bit of egg onto her fork. "So, I'll come to you." She glances down at her phone, that she's been scrolling through all morning. "There's a flight that gets in at six Friday evening."

"Perfect. I'm off at 4:30 on Friday so I can definitely pick you up," he agrees.

"And while you're in your meeting on Saturday, I'll work on my book. Then when you're done I'll be here and we can do whatever you want," she says as she taps the phone screen a few times. "There. Flight booked. Plans official."

"Official," he repeats. The word causes an automatic smile to appear on his face.

She smiles back at him and for a moment they're stuck in an exchange of unbelievable happiness. Finally, Lucy looks away from him to focus on her breakfast.

"It's a good thing you can cook," she says with a self deprecating grin. "Because I can't even make a decent sandwich."

He watches her take a bite of her eggs with a suspicious expression. "You can't be that bad."

"No, I am. Just ask Amy. She'll tell you," Lucy says with a chuckle. "I'm hopeless in a kitchen. I am, however, _fantastic_ at ordering take out."

He nods dramatically and smirks. "Hey, that's a good skill too."

"I think so. My take out menu drawer in my kitchen is _very _well organized."

He laughs so hard that he has to put his fork down for a moment out of fear that he might accidentally stab himself.

"I'm learning so much about you this weekend," he says through the last of his laughter. "Can't wait to see what I learn _next_ weekend."

"Oh, I'm already making a lesson plan," she tells him with a teasing smile. "I'm thinking a crash course on the best truly-bad-for-you reality television. _The Bachelor_, _Real Housewives_, _Vanderpump Rules_—"

He groans as if he's in pain. "That sounds like a waste of my HD picture."

"Or is it the _best_ use of your HD picture? Now I can finally try and determine just _how much _work these women have had," she says in a conspiring whisper. "There's no better cause, Wyatt. Trust me."

"God, _please_, be joking," Wyatt says with wide horrified eyes.

This time it's Lucy who has to put down her fork in order to laugh. "Your face. Oh, I should have taken a picture."

For the first time since he met her, he's not worried about whether or not he'll be getting more moments like this one. Yes, she's leaving today, but now he knows for certain that she'll be back. Instead of sadness and dread, they both feel _hope_.

The work week better pass at lightning speed. He can't have her back at his kitchen table fast _enough_.


	7. 6 Will You Love Me Tomorrow?

**A/N: **So, I was not planning to post this until I Finished chapter 11 BUT sketchingwitch POSTED A SKETCH OF WYATT FROM CHAPTER ONE IN HIS HAWAIIAN SHIRT. AND OMG I AM EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT. It's beautiful! And as a thank you to her I decided to post chapter 6! YOU GUYS go check it out! It's my pinned tweet and GORGEOUS. Thank you, Fiona!

Now foe the heads up: Jessica is not RH Jessica in this story because there is no RH. Things with Wyatt ended but they ended on friendly terms. Also if you know me, you know I love Jessica/Emma. They are not the main focus in this fic but when I decided to include WyJess friendship, I decided to include Jessima too. Hopefully, you guys will allow your AU brains to accept this. Because I am in love with AU Jessima. They're oddly domestic.

HAPPY READING!

Angellwings

* * *

Chapter Six: Will You Love Me Tomorrow?

* * *

"Is this a lasting treasure,

Or just a moment's pleasure?

Can I believe the magic of your sighs?

Will you still love me tomorrow?

Tonight with words unspoken,

You say that I'm the only one.

But will my heart be broken,

When the night meets the morning sun?"

-"Will You Love Me Tomorrow" by Carole King

* * *

Wyatt is going to kill Mason. He specifically asked not to hire outside contractors for the new building's security system but Mason did anyway and now the details of their security system for the Los Angeles office have been leaked online. It's a disaster and one that has to be taken care of _now_. Which means working late, on Lucy's first night in town. Not _only _that but he's not going to be able to get away to pick her up.

He's going to have to spend the afternoon building a new in-house security team from scratch to brainstorm new protocols and look through potential replacement systems. He'll be lucky if he leaves the office before midnight.

He pulls in Rufus and Emma, but leaves Dave off the project to oversee the running of the San Francisco office for the day and leaves Jiya off the project to keep the R & D lab running smoothly. Either one of them will be off at 4:30 and could potentially pick up Lucy for him. He hates not being able to do it himself but he hates the idea of her stuck at the airport even more.

He decides on Dave because he's terrified of what stories Jiya might share with Lucy. Jiya gets sadistic pleasure out of embarrassing Wyatt.

He pulls Dave into his office and shuts the door behind him.

"I hate to ask for two favors in one week, Bam-Bam, but…"

"You're going to anyway?" Dave asks with a knowing grin.

"Yeah. And I need you to keep it to yourself, okay? Jiya will kill me if she finds out I asked you instead of her," Wyatt says nervously.

"I like the sound of this. Any chance I can get to one-up Jiya I'll take," Dave says eagerly. "What do you need me to do?"

Wyatt sighs with a guilty expression. "Pick up a friend from the airport."

Dave's eyebrows shoot up in curiosity. "A friend or _the _friend? As in _the_ friend you met on vacation and _the_ friend you took Monday morning off for?"

Wyatt ignores him and shoots off a quick text to Dave's phone. "Her name is Lucy. I just sent you her picture. She's getting in on United 460 from Los Angeles at 6 o'clock. I'll text her to let her know you're coming. Think you can handle that?"

Dave nods as he opens the text and then grins up at Wyatt. "This is a picture of you and her together. _A selfie. _You took a selfie for her? Damn man, you must have it real bad. Not that I blame you. She's hot. I think it's the light skin, dark hair combinatio—"

"Can you pick her up or not?" Wyatt asks with a huff. "I already hate that I have to ask someone else to do this, so if you can't will you just tell me that way I can find another option?"

Dave rolls his eyes at Wyatt's agitated tone and then smiles in understanding. "Yeah, brother, I can handle it. You know I've always got your six."

"Thank you," Wyatt says with a sigh of relief. "Sorry for...snapping, I guess. I'm just so pissed at Mason, right now. I told him we needed this all done in house and now I'm going to miss a good chunk of my weekend because of his mistake. And it's the first weekend after she and I—nevermind. I'm going to call her and apologize profusely but just back me up when you see her, okay? Tell her how much I hate this?"

"Good as done," Dave agrees. "You know, it's nice seeing you get upset about not being able to leave the office. I'm happy for you, man. Usually, you're looking for reasons to stay at work."

"Yeah, well, been a while since I had something other than work to look forward to, you know?" Wyatt asks rhetorically. "It's still new but…**.**" He stops and grin softly at Dave. "I'm genuinely crazy about her. She makes me happy."

"Bout time. You deserve to be happy, dude. You really do," Dave says as he looks down at his watch. "Alright, well if I'm picking her up at six, then I better make my final round so I can go pick up Fi from karate and take her to her mom."

"Karate and dance?" Wyatt asks. "How many things can a six year old be involved in?"

"Oh, plenty. My ex also has her in acting classes," Dave says with a roll of his eyes. "She has it in her head that Fi is destined for television. I let it go cause Fi seems to like being an acting, dancing ninja but the kid's calendar is way more full than mine. I'll text you once I've picked up your _friend_," He finishes with a smirk.

"Thank you," Wyatt says with a heartfelt look of gratitude. "I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it. Happy to help," Dave tells him with a dismissive wave.

Wyatt waits for the door to close behind him before he texts Lucy.

_You busy? Can I call you?_

A moment later the animated dots appear on the bottom of the screen and then stop. His eyes narrow but before he can really question it his phone lights up with Lucy's face and number.

"Hey," he says as he answers her call. "I'll take the call to mean you're not busy then."

She chuckles before she replies. "Just waiting to board soon. What's up?"

"Before I answer that, let me just say how much I'm absolutely looking forward to seeing you. I have been thinking about it all week and I'm beyond ready to be alone with you. _Beyond_."

"Well, thank you. Me too. So," she says cutting to the chase. "What's wrong?"

He puffs out a frustrated breath. "My work situation has blown the hell up. I can't get away to pick you up."

"Oh, well, that's okay. I can take an Uber or something."

"No. No, you won't. I told you I had this and I do. I promise I do. My buddy, Dave, is picking you up. It's all arranged. Is it okay if I give him your number so he can let you know where to meet him?" Wyatt says in an urgent rush.

"Sure, of course, but Wyatt, it's _okay_. I don't mind getting myself to your place from the airport," she assures him. "I'm not mad. Things happen."

Relief floods him. She sounds like she's _actually_ okay. Jessica used to hate it when their plans were derailed by his work. A lot of their biggest fights happened before last minute deployments while he was with Delta Force. He's never seen any other reaction to last minute changes.

"Still," he replies. "I feel awful. I was really looking forward to picking you up myself. Especially because this is the first weekend after our talk. I don't want to mess this up and this doesn't feel like a very good start. I mean, you're important to me and I want to make sure you know that."

There's a moment of silence before she speaks in an astonished voice. "Wyatt...I—" she stops to take a breath and then continues in a voice that sounds sunnier than he's ever heard her. "You're important to me too, and you're not messing this up. I promise."

"If you say so," he replies in a low tone. "Next time, though, I'm picking you up no matter what."

"Okay," she agrees. "Don't expect me to talk you out of it."

He laughs and nods, even though she can't see it. "I would never."

"Just get through your work day, Wyatt. Focus on that. It sounds stressful," she advises. "I'll be fine. Besides, I think it'll be nice to meet one of your friends. I mean, you've met my sister but I haven't met anyone in your life. I'm sure Dave has a few stories to tell."

Wyatt scoffs. "We served together so you have no idea how right you actually are."

"Really? He was special forces too?"

"One of the best," Wyatt confirms.

"Send me his info. I'll add it to my phone for when I land," she requests. "I should go. They're calling my flight."

"Alright, fly safe, yeah?"

"Well, we stand a much better chance of that as long as I'm not actually flying the plane, so sure," she says with a light laugh. "I'll see you tonight, Wyatt. Don't stress, okay?"

"Not one of my strengths but for you I guess I'll try," he replies with a sardonic chuckle. "See you tonight."

"Looking forward to it," she says warmly, just before disconnecting the call.

He texts her Dave's number and picture and then turns around and sends Lucy's contact information to Dave. With that done, he gets back to work.

Lucy's right. He should focus on work. The more he focuses, the quicker he'll finish, and the sooner he'll see _her_.

* * *

Lucy's plane lands a few minutes late so the minute it's announced that they can turn on their phones again, she's texting Wyatt's friend in double her normal time. The picture of Dave looks harmless enough. He's handsome and, considering he's standing next to Wyatt in the picture, she can tell that he's very tall. She remembers Wyatt mentioned him a few times and that Wyatt traded shifts with him on Monday. Hopefully, he'll like her. This is the first time she'll be meeting anyone who knew Wyatt before her and she can't help but be nervous.

He's standing next to his running car when she exits baggage claim. His SUV is much more practical than Wyatt's muscle car. She can see a booster seat in the backseat as she approaches.

"Lucy Preston?" Dave asks.

She nods. "Dave Baumgardner?"

He nods too and then they shake hands with friendly smiles.

"I finally meet Wyatt's mystery girl. He's been very tight lipped about you, except to say that he's crazy about you and that he hated he couldn't be here instead of me," Dave informs her as he releases her hand and takes her bag to the back hatch. "Go ahead and climb in, if you want. Make yourself comfortable."

She does exactly that. Dave's front seat is roomy, roomier than her budget airline seat, and she enthusiastically stretches out her legs. As the driver's side door opens, her stomach rumbles and she blushes in embarrassment.

Dave snorts and grins at her. "Hungry?"

"Starving, actually."

"We'll stop for food on the way to Wyatt's then. You up for a fantastic to-go burger?" He asks.

"Depends on what comes with it?" Lucy asks him with a grin and a skeptical raised brow.

"Your choice of house made chips or seasoned curly fries."

"Oh, hell yes," Lucy says excitedly. "I'm in. Curly fries are my addiction."

Dave holds his fist out for a bump as he pulls away from the curb. "I knew I'd like you."

She chuckles and reciprocates the gesture. "You're the first of Wyatt's friends I've met so I'm glad to hear that. You're actually the only friend he's ever mentioned to me by name."

Dave scoffs brightly. "Not surprised. That guy's like Fort Knox when it comes to sharing. He's also a quality over quantity kind of guy so he doesn't have too many names to mention. Really just all of us at Mason."

"Must be why he seems to love his job so much," Lucy adds with a soft smile.

"Oh yeah," he adds. "Mason treats all of us like family. Like a lot of us that work there, he doesn't really have a family of his own."

"So, he made one?" Lucy asks. "That's sweet."

"Mason will deny it if you call him that to his face, but yeah I guess he is."

"Wyatt said the two of you served together?" Lucy asks.

"We did. We were on a couple of Delta Force teams together. Special assignments. He's a bad ass and pretty damn fearless. Stubborn as a mule, though, but otherwise...I don't think you could ever ask for a better teammate than him," Dave tells her with a fond smile. "He's the brother I never had. He actually got me this job once he settled at Mason. I'd be missing the rascal's cute years if he hadn't." Dave motions to the back seat where the booster seat sits and smiles softly. "She's six now. She was two when I got out."

"Name?" Lucy asks with genuine interest.

"Fiona, Fi for short," he says as he reaches across her to open his glovebox. He pulls out a small album and sets it on her lap. He turns back to the road to let her look through it. "Baby pictures. Too many of them for my wallet by now so I keep him in the car."

Lucy is a bit amazed. He's sharing so much with her and they literally just met. She gets the feeling that Dave and Wyatt are as opposite as her and her sister.

"She's adorable," Lucy says with a full smile as she flips the pages. "Karate and dance? Oh, my sister would _love_ her. Amy's a black belt and was also captain of her dance team in high school. She's never let anyone's expectations stop her. Seems like Fi might be headed that way too."

"Your sister sounds like a handful," Dave observes with a raised brow.

"You don't even know the half of it," Lucy replies, laughing as she puts the album back in the glovebox.

"You two from Los Angeles?" He asks.

"No, actually, we were born and raised in Palo Alto. My mom is a professor at Stanford," Lucy explains. "I moved to Los Angeles last year, and Amy came with me."

"Wow, you two must be close. That's nice. I haven't seen my sisters since Christmas," Dave offers. "And what do you do there?"

Her brow furrows at him before she chuckles in disbelief. "Wyatt really told you nothing?"

Dave shakes his head. "Just that he met you on vacation and you live in Los Angeles. Until today, he refused to even tell us your name. He's afraid we might scare you away, I think. And, to be fair, the other's might. They're a bit overly _excited_ that he's met someone."

She isn't sure how she feels about that. On one had, it's thoughtful that he doesn't want her to be overwhelmed, but on the other...it's a bit troubling. Is he keeping her such a secret because he doesn't want to get their hopes up? Because he knows they won't last? Does he think they won't like her? Does she do something horribly embarrassing that no one's told her about all these years?

"You okay?" Dave asks when she goes quiet.

She blinks once and then shakes her head to clear the doubts away. "I'm fine. As for what I do, I'm a professor at UCLA. I teach history."

"Oh wow," Dave says with an impressed nod. "Smart and beautiful. Wyatt is definitely dating _up_."

Lucy laughs. Dave is just as charming as Wyatt. Though Wyatt's charm is reserved for select moments when he knows it'll do the most damage to her will power. Dave's is offered freely and in exchange for nothing. She prefers Wyatt's approach because being disarmed by him is the biggest thrill she's had in years. It feels like she's won something every time he aims that charm on her.

Dave pulls off the road and parks along the sidewalk. He points to a small store front a few feet away. "Best Burgers in all of Palo Alto."

"I've lived here all my life, pal. _I'll_ be the judge of that," Lucy tells him with a challenging grin.

"Oh damn, I got a 'pal'. You mean business," Dave replies with a laugh. "Well, let's go Professor Preston. If I'm wrong about this then I guess you'll have to tell me where to find a better burger."

They step out of the SUV and have just walked into the tiny restaurant when a voice calls out to Dave from across the room.

He turns and beams at the voice but then gives Lucy a worried sidelong glance.

"Hey, Jess," he says easily as he hugs the woman.

She's pretty with a gentle upturned nose and dark blonde hair. Her Rolling Stones tank top and fringe leather ankle boots tell Lucy that she's one of those women who manages to look rebellious without even trying.

"What are you doing here?" Dave asks as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.

"Taking Emma and the gang dinner," she says as she motions to the huge bag of take out in her right hand. "Apparently, they're in for a late night and this is the only place that makes Emma's burger just the way she likes it."

Dave makes a disgusted face. "Burnt to a crisp?"

"Charcoaled," Jess clarifies with a laugh. "I know it's gross, but what am I gonna do? The woman knows what she likes and she refuses to accept anything less. I can't be mad about it. It's the reason I fell in love with her."

Dave shrugs and smirks. "Fair point, I guess."

"Who's your friend?" Jess asks as she points to Lucy.

Lucy isn't sure why, but she feels the intense urge to try and blend in to the dated floral wallpaper.

"Uh, this is Lucy," Dave says as he takes a deep breath. "And she's actually Wyatt's _friend_. I picked her up form the airport for him. You know, since they're all working late."

Jess looks shocked - no, not a strong enough word. She looks _flabbergasted_.

"Oh my god, _finally!_" She exclaims as she shoves the take out at Dave and vigorously shakes Lucy's hand. "Congratulations on getting him to actually find a life. It's been three years since the divorce and all that man's done is work. I thought he was a workaholic when we were married, but that had nothing on his work ethic since we split."

Lucy knows her face pales. She feels her entire body go cold all at once. She looks Jess up and down and returns her handshake on auto pilot.

"_...since the divorce…"_

"_...when we were married…_

"_...since the split."_

Divorce? Wyatt was married? She bites back a gasp but can't stop herself from ripping her hand out of Jess's. _Oh god, she just met his ex-wife_. Jess is his ex-wife. And she's...she's…

Nothing like Lucy. She looks a little rough and tumble. _Strong_ in a way Lucy has never been. She's agreeable and lively. Her features are rounder than Lucy's - more open. She has the kind of face that people tell their secrets too, whether they want to or not. Lucy suspects she's the life of any party and can win over an entire room full of strangers.

Lucy is none of those things.

How could Wyatt go from _Jess_ to _her_?

Lucy realizes she's been rude by cutting off a perfectly friendly handshake while simultaneously staring with a slack-jaw.

"I—I'm sorry," Lucy says quickly. "I don't mean to—but he never said—Wyatt never told me that he was—" Pull it together, Lucy. _Speak full sentences_. "He was _married?"_

Both Dave and Jess look as shocked as she feels. Jess takes Lucy's arm and leads her over to a nearby chair.

"Oh god, Lucy," Dave says as he walks with them. "He didn't tell you?"

Jess sighs tiredly and rolls her eyes. "Of course he didn't. The idiot. I'm sorry, Lucy. You shouldn't have found out about it like this. Not from me and Dave."

Jess forces her to sit and then sits down beside of her.

Lucy's default mode has always been to defend other people. It's just how she's built. So the first thing she does is speak up in favor of Wyatt. "No, I mean. We just met not that long ago. In fact, we just decided to actually date _last week_ so it's not like I have a right to his entire life history or anything. It's—It's fine."

Even though he knows the basic details of both of her most complicated relationships. She's already told him about Jonas and her mother — _her baggage_. Why wouldn't he have reciprocated? Unless he was hiding it? Was he? Did he not want her to know he was divorced?

"It's not fine," Jess insists. "He should have told you."

"I—I mean, it's not like I asked," she replies with a slow shrug. Her eyes are still focused on the floor. She's too embarrassed to look back up at either Dave or Jess. Is she being over dramatic about this? Jonas would certainly say she was.

Jess chuckles softly and squeezes Lucy's arm. "You're sweet, but he's a jackass sometimes. You don't have to make excuses for him. He fucked up. Dave and I both know it."

Dave scoffs and gives Lucy an apologetic glance. "She's right. He fucked up."

"Talking isn't his strong suit," Jess offers as she stands from her chair and takes the food back from Dave. "But that doesn't mean he should get away with it. You were blindsided by this and that shouldn't have happened. _Tell him that._ Make sure he knows he hurt you. You deserve an apology, Luce — can I call you Luce?"

"Um, sure?" Lucy says as she finally looks up at the other woman.

This feels like some bizarre nightmare. Wyatt's ex-wife is giving her advice? Asking to call her by a nickname? Is this real? Did Wyatt really neglect to tell her he was _married_ at one point in his life? That seems like a really big thing to leave out. Especially, when she poured out her heart to him just last weekend.

"Don't be too easy on him," Jess advises. "You okay? I mean aside from the obvious?"

Don't be too easy on him? Lucy's never been good at confrontation or admitting how she feels. She cares more about how other people feel - about what makes _them_ happy. Jess offers that to her like she should just be able to _do it_, but that's not her. It's never been that easy.

"I'm okay, I think," Lucy answers. Confused as hell, a little mystified, and a lot hurt. None of those things are okay, but what is she supposed to say?

"Order the fried cheese," Jess tells Dave. "And stop by the store to get her some wine. She's gonna need it." She then turns her warm but stern eyes back to Lucy. "It was nice to meet you even if the circumstances were awkward, and I'm happy to hear Wyatt has found someone. But do me a favor?"

Lucy takes a deep breath and nods. "Sure, what?"

"Tell him Jess says he better not fuck it up. You're classier than me. You deserve him at his best," she says with a sad smile. "Make sure he gives you that."

Then she's gone and Lucy's left wondering if she imagined it. She knows she didn't though when Dave clears his throat and hands her a laminated menu.

"I hope you're still hungry after that. I know stress can sometimes kill an appetite but I really need to know if I'm right about this place or not. You're the only person who can tell me if there's a better burger out there somewhere."

He's grinning with a kind expression when she drags her eyes up to his.

She gulps back tears and then rubs at her damp cheeks before taking the menu from him. It seems a few tears escaped before she could catch them. "I think I can manage."

"I really am sorry, Lucy," Dave offers. "I didn't think he would have told you all the details but I thought...well I thought he would have told you _something_. I didn't mean for you to be bombarded with it like that."

"You couldn't have known, Dave," Lucy offers as she reaches up and squeezes his arm. "It's not your fault."

Dave huffs and then shakes his head. "Look, I know what Jess told you, and some of what she said has merit but...she's his ex for a reason. I know this is all kinds of messed up, but I hope you'll give him a chance to explain first. He's impulsive and very private and can be a hot headed tool when he's angry but I've never known him to lie. Whatever this is, I don't think it's intentional. It's none of my business, really, but...I promise he's a good guy. The _best_ of the best, if you ask me."

She gives him a wan smile and nods. "I'll be honest, I don't know what to do with any of this or how it makes me feel or what I'll say to him when he gets home tonight. I was being truthful earlier. We just met. I don't expect him to tell me _everything_ right away. I mean, maybe he meant to tell me and just never got around to it? Or maybe he did intentionally keep it from me. Maybe I won't bring it up at all. There's really no telling at this point. I'm still in shock."

"Well, you're taking it better than I would," Dave tells her with obvious admiration. "You're a hell of a woman, Lucy Preston. Jess was definitely right about at least one thing."

"What's that?" Lucy asks as she turns her focus to the menu.

"He better not fuck it up."

She and Dave exchange friendly smiles while she replies. "You know, I really like you, Dave Baumgardner. We should be friends."

He chuckles and sticks his fist out for another bump. "Done."

She obliges him with a grin, and then the subject of Wyatt and Jess is dropped completely. Thank God. She'll have plenty of time to dwell on that later, once Dave leaves her alone in Wyatt's huge drafty house.

* * *

Jess storms into his office, drops a huge bag of take out on his desk, and then pins him down with a very familiar glare. He hasn't seen that glare in _ages_.

"Oh shit," Emma says as she stands to look through the take out. She raises a brow at Wyatt and then glances between him and Jess. "What did you do?"

"I have no clue," Wyatt says slowly.

Emma reaches for a container but Jess stops her with a sigh. "No, babe. Yours is on the bottom, marked 'disgusting'. The top one is for Rufus. It has extra jalapenos."

"A well burnt burger is _not_ disgusting," Emma says defensively before kissing Jess on the temple. "But thank you anyway."

Jess softens for a brief moment but then her glare is fixed on Wyatt again.

"You didn't tell your new girl about me," Jess says accusingly.

Wyatt instantly feels about an inch tall. _Fuck._

"What?" He chokes out. He's desperately hoping she doesn't mean what he think she means.

"Dave picked her up from the airport and then I guess they decided to get food because I ran into them picking up your orders," Jess informs him as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Dave introduced us and I told her how happy I was that you were finally getting a life after the divorce. As soon as the words left my mouth, she froze. Your girlfriend nearly had a panic attack in the middle of the restaurant. What. The. _Fuck_. Wyatt? How could you not tell her?"

He braces himself for the punch to the arm before Jess even rears back to hit him. He's known her long enough to see it coming.

"I—_shit_—I didn't think about it!" Wyatt says as his face pinches in guilt. "I mean I did think about it. About you and me and how different me and Lucy are, but I didn't—Jesus, telling her didn't even cross my mind. I'm an _asshole_! I wasn't trying to keep it from her. I guess, I don't know. I know I haven't told her but somehow it felt like I had?"

Rufus blinks at him and narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "Dude, I'm a genius and even I can't make sense of the words that just came out of your mouth."

"Hate to admit it, but Rufus is right." Rufus scowls as Emma continues. "What the hell did you just say?" Emma asks in confusion. "You knew you hadn't told her but you felt like you had? What? Is the girl just supposed to know you're divorced and have a weird friendship with your ex-wife? Cause I gotta tell ya, I've witnessed it all go down and even I have a hard time dealing with it sometimes. No way someone _normal_ is ever going to guess that."

"Aw, Em," Jess says in concern as she sits on the arm of Emma's chair. "Really?"

Emma quirks a brow at her. "You're surprised that I'm sometimes jealous of how close you still are to your ex-husband? Seriously?"

"I—I don't know. I guess I don't think of Wyatt that way? I mean I know that's what he is, but—well," Jess gestures to Wyatt vaguely and grimaces. "He's _Wyatt_."

"Gee, thank you," Wyatt says dryly. "My name has never sounded more like an insult."

Rufus chuckles at his expense. "So, what are you going to do?"

Wyatt huffs. "Finish work and then go home and beg for forgiveness." He runs an anxious hand through his hair and shakes his head at himself. "I just told her I didn't want to fuck this up and what am I already doing?"

"Fucking it up." All three of them answer in unison.

He rubs a hand over his face and chuckles darkly at his friends. "That was rhetorical but thank you for the confirmation of what I already know."

"What else are best friends, ex-wives, and ex-wives' girlfriends good for?" Rufus asks him with a smirk.

"God, my life is weird," Wyatt says he grabs his take out container and gets back to work. This night already seems long but knowing Lucy's going to be waiting for him to get home and probably _pissed_ isn't going to make it any shorter.

* * *

As Wyatt is pulling in the driveway, Dave is walking out the front door. The look Dave gives him is nothing short of disappointed and Wyatt feels it as if he's been punched in the gut.

"Dude," Dave says tiredly. "Fix this."

"Is she pissed?" He asks reluctantly.

"I don't know what she is and neither does she. She turned white as a ghost, man. I seriously thought she might pass out. How could you let her find out that way? How could you not be the one to tell her first?"

"I don't know if any explanation I give could be good enough to justify it," Wyatt admits with a remorseful glance. "I just...when I'm with Lucy I don't think about Jess. Not often anyway, and usually in passing. It's like...no one else exists but me and her. It's no excuse, but it's all I've got. I feel like she knows me better than she actually does and it just...slipped my mind is all."

"That's a pretty big thing to slip your mind," Dave admonishes. "Apologize and mean it. She seems fine, but with the way she reacted earlier today...that can't be the whole truth. I don't know her that well and she plays her emotions close to her chest but she didn't deserve to find out from me and Jess."

"You're right," Wyatt agrees. "Believe me, I'm about to go in there and grovel with everything I've got."

"Good," Dave says as he pats his shoulder. "Because she's pretty damn cool. Never seen a woman inhale that many curly fries so fast."

Wyatt lets out a snorting chuckle. "She's serious about her fries. At dinner last weekend I bought an appetizer portion for the table because she kept trying to eat hers _and _mine." His wistful smile falls and he groans miserably. "God, I hope I can fix this. I really like her, man."

"Then get in there and work your ass off. Go earn her, brother," Dave says as he points to the front door. "It's not doing you any good to stand out here talking to me. Go talk to _her_."

Dave heads to his car and Wyatt takes in a fortifying breath. Time to face the music.

To his surprise, though, he's greeted by a smiling Lucy when he opens the door. For anyone else maybe that smile would have worked, but he can see behind it. He always can with her and he's never been sure why.

"Hey," she says as she busies herself with putting her and Dave's dinner dishes in the sink. "How'd it go with work? Everything okay?"

"Not yet, but it will be before the end of the day tomorrow," he answers. He gives her a worried once over before he continues. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Fine," she answers. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He blinks at her. What the hell is going on here? She has to know he _knows_, doesn't she? "I don't know. Maybe because you ran into my ex-wife today and I've yet to even tell you she exists?"

"Oh, that."

"Yeah," he says with a confused tilt of his head. "That."

"I've been thinking about it and...it's fine."

"Fine?" He asks. Why doesn't he believe her?

"We've only known each other for three weeks, Wyatt, and we've been a little busy when we're together," she says with a shrug. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" He asks as he takes a step toward her. She doesn't step back, but she definitely flinches. He wishes he could say the sight of it doesn't hurt, but it does. "I wouldn't blame you if you were pissed at me, Luce. I should have told you. I mean you...you told me about your mom and ex-fiancé. I had my chances to tell you. I should have. It was a dick move not to."

She cracks a little as he admits that out loud. He finally sees hurt flicker across her face.

"Then why didn't you?" She asks quietly. She says it so low that he almost doesn't hear her.

"It wasn't intentional," he assures her. "Do you remember when you first let slip that you and your mom don't talk? You said something about how you forgot that you hadn't told me that? It's the same with Jess. When I'm with you I don't think about her or anything really except you, and you make me feel like...you make me feel like you already know me completely. You don't and I know you don't but I forget. I also...haven't ever had to actually tell anyone about Jessica and I before. No other woman has ever gotten past the first date and everyone else in my life witnessed it all go down. Having to tell someone about her is new for me, even after three years. I'm a jackass and I'm not going to deny that, but I never meant to keep it from you. I swear."

"You didn't think I would judge you for it, did you? I mean, I know we haven't known each other long but surely you know me better than to think—"

"No, Lucy, I would never think that of you. Not a chance," he says with steely certainty.

There's a long silence between them before her veneer of "fine" shatters to pieces.

"That was so completely humiliating, Wyatt. I stood there gaping at her like an idiot. She was nice and friendly and I just...shut down. Do you know what it's like to suddenly feel as though you know _nothing_? Because that's how I felt. Like you were one person one minute and then a total stranger the next."

She's pacing and her arms are waving frantically. She doesn't sound angry, exactly, but he definitely hears tears.

"Add that to the fact that you haven't told any of your friends about me and I thought—" she cuts her sentence off and crosses her arms over her chest. He sees that mask of 'fine" threatening to go back up so he decides to prompt her to go on.

"You thought?" He asks as he steps further into her space.

"I don't know. I thought you had decided we weren't going to last or that you were ashamed of me or that your friends wouldn't like me...anything and everything seemed plausible to me," she confesses as she hugs herself and shifts her weight toward him very slightly. "Dave and Jess kept telling me you don't talk, but I...I didn't understand because that's what I thought we'd been doing. Talking. But we haven't, have we? Not really."

When she looks up at him there's water pooling in her eyes and damn if his don't start watering to match hers.

He risks seeing her flinch again and reaches out to put his hands on her shoulders. But she doesn't flinch. She doesn't move away. He runs his hands down her arms and pulls her into his chest.

"I'm sorry," he says against her hair. "I've never been good at talking. Not when I was a kid, not in the Army, and certainly not since I've been out. And we have been talking. I'm just not very giving, and I wanna be, Lucy. I wouldn't have told you about Grandpa Sherwin or my dad if I didn't want to talk to you." Her arms slowly snake around him and he feels her press her face into his shoulder.

"There's also no way in hell I would ever be ashamed of you. All I've wanted to do since I met you is show you off and Dave already likes you more than me I think. I'm pretty sure the rest of my friends will be the same. Oh, and your worries about me deciding we won't last? I meant what I told you on the phone earlier today. You're important to me, and I don't want to mess this up. I want a chance to make this work. Even if that means I'm fighting myself to let you in. I might require a little extra patience from you, though, it's not easy for me to volunteer information. That's just never been my way." He tightens his arms around her and gently kisses the top of her head. "If you decide this is all too much for you then I'll understand. In fact, I probably deserve it. You're out of my league anyway, I've known that from the beginning."

She pulls back and her tearful eyes meet his. There's reproach in them, but her next words aren't what he expects. "Don't say that. I'm not out of your league, and I haven't decided this is too much for me. _You're_ not too much for me."

"Even after today?" He asks guilt clogs his throat. "I know I hurt you, Lucy. You tried to hide it but I can see it."

She lets out a shaky sigh and then runs a hand down the side of his face. "Yes, you hurt me. Yes, you messed up. But it's not the end of the world, Wyatt. You came to me and you owned up to it. You know you made a mistake. Trust me, not every guy would be willing to admit that."

"Your ex must have been a bigger asshole than me. I didn't know that was possible," Wyatt says with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Trust me when I say, that you and Jonas are _nothing_ alike. I never would have stuck around if I saw any similarities," she assures him. "I just...I want you to feel comfortable talking to me, Wyatt, because if you're not then what is the point of all this? Why are we even trying?"

"I'll work on it," he declares. "I promise. I don't want a situation like this to happen again, Luce. I feel like shit knowing you learned about my marriage second hand. Especially because of our talk last week. I don't want you to feel like there was an issue with you that kept me from confiding in you. It wasn't you. It was all _me_. You have to believe me."

He hears the way he's begging her and he doesn't give a damn. Jonas bruised her ego enough. He would _not_ make it worse.

"I believe you," she tells him as her hands land on either side of his face. She pulls his blue eyes to her brown ones and repeats herself. "I _believe_ you."

She moves one hand to the underside of his chin and then grips it to pull him in for a slow, soft kiss. He's not sure how, but he can _feel_ her forgiveness and understanding on her lips. He can practically _taste_ it.

But he knows he still has a lot to make up for. He's not done yet.

When the kiss ends, he takes her hand and leads her to the couch. They sit facing each other, and Wyatt takes a deep breath before meeting her red eyes.

"Do you want to hear about Jess?" He asks. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, from the beginning to the end. Anything and everything."

"I don't need to know everything right away, Wyatt," she says with a weak laugh. "Just..._some things_. I don't want you to feel required to tell me anything. I want you to _want_ to tell me things. Because you _choose _to and not because I force you to."

He nods slowly as he thinks about that. She wants to hear what he _wants_ to say. That sounds easy enough. So he starts with the essentials.

"We met in high school," Wyatt tells her. "Senior year, to be exact. I was a punk. Got caught drinking on campus and couldn't even take her to our senior prom. She stuck it out though. Honestly, she and my grandfather are probably the only reasons I graduated. She was my first love and my best friend, but we're both too impulsive. We got married the day she turned eighteen. Her parents didn't approve so we had to wait. In hindsight, we probably should have listened. What we thought was destiny turned out to be attraction and lust and once that fizzled out we started fighting. _A lot_. I drank. She threw things. I volunteered for extended deployments to avoid her. She cheated once or twice. We were an angry and resentful mess. But she was still the Jess I knew in high school. I still loved her. I just wasn't...in love with her."

Lucy squeezes his hand supportively, and he feels her move closer to him. It strengthens his resolve to keep going. He's a bit shocked that her encouragement bolsters him so much, but now is not the time to pull that particular thread.

"I knew it, but I never said it, and I hate failing. Every time I fail I prove my old man right. So, I was determined to make it work. Her parents suggested counseling, and I decided that if we were going to seriously do this then I needed to be stateside permanently. I knew she hated being a military wife. Too many secrets, too much instability. So when one of my former COs offered me a job with his private security firm, I took it. One of the first clients I worked with was Mason and, over the course of that first year, he came to trust me more than my boss. As a result, he and everyone at Mason witnessed Jess and I finally calling it quits. All counseling did was make the ending less messy. Our marriage didn't make it, but our friendship did."

He gives Lucy a small smile and shrugs. "I was less heartbroken and more disappointed about the idea of failure. It's taken me a long time to get past that. Actually being friends with Jess again helped. We're too similar, she and I. We're both hotheaded and impulsive and stubborn. It's _why_ we could never work. It's why the failure hurt us both. A lot of people find it weird, but ending our marriage made us better friends. And I like being Jessica's friend a lot better than I liked being her husband. She was never the love of my life, and I was never the love of hers. It just took us far too long to see it."

"It's uncommon," Lucy says with a soft smile and a nod. "But I don't think it's weird. That's...nice actually. I mean you've known her since you were kids. It would be heartbreaking if all that history was ruined. This way it's not ruined, it's just..._different_. It's actually very mature of you both. More mature than me and my high school boyfriend anyway. The jerk dumped me two weeks before prom and then took someone else. If I saw him again, I'm pretty sure I would poke him in the eye."

Wyatt chuckles at her and furrows his brow. His eyes are wet from reliving the emotions and the struggle but it actually feels good to tell someone. He's glad that someone is Lucy. "That's oddly specific."

"His eyes were his best feature. I'd like to hit him where it hurts," Lucy states with a smirk. "An eye patch would ruin the aesthetic appropriately."

"You're odd, Preston," Wyatt replies through a laugh as he brings the back of her hand to his lips. "But I dig it. _A lot_."

"Thank you for sharing, Wyatt," she says as she fixes him with a heartfelt glance. "It means a lot."

"Thank you for listening," he says as he uses his hold on her hand to pull her against him. "It felt good to tell you about it. I should have told you sooner." He realizes he left something out. Something important that may come up if they run into anyone else from his office. "Uh, also, Jess is dating one of the engineers I work with. They're pretty serious, actually."

Lucy's eyes narrow and then widen again as she turns to him with recognition in her eyes. "Oh, she did mention someone! Emma?"

"Yeah, they met at one of my work functions just before the divorce was final," Wyatt tells her with a sardonic laugh. "Jess is as much a part of the Mason Industries family as I am. Now she's just Emma's plus one instead of mine, so if you go with me to any company events we may see her. Is that okay?"

"If you're okay with it then I'm okay with it," Lucy answers. "She seemed very nice at the restaurant today. Even if I was on the verge of a panic attack. Certainly excited to hear that you were dating someone." Lucy laughs at that and then turns a questioning gaze on him. "You really haven't seriously dated anyone since the divorce? If I heard Jess right, it's been three years. You can't have been single all that time."

"I could and I was," Wyatt admits sheepishly. "I didn't want to date for the sake of dating, and no one I went on a date with seem to make a lasting impression."

"Until me?" Lucy asks in surprise. "Really?"

He nods and then drops a quick kiss to her temple. "Does that freak you out?"

"Maybe a little," she says honestly. "It seems like a lot of pressure."

"Pressure to what?" He asks as he leans back, longways, on the couch and pulls her with him.

"I don't know. Pressure to...make you happy, I guess? This is a big move for you and I don't want you to regret it."

He rubs her arm soothingly and brushes a strand of hair out of her face. "I won't. I could never regret you, Luce. I don't anticipate this ending badly, but even if it does I would never regret any of my time with you. And there's no pressure. I don't want you to feel like you _have_ to make me happy. Just be yourself and spend time with me. That's enough. _You_ are enough. If we do that then I think the happiness will just..._happen_."

"I'm not really the type of person that good things _just happen_ to," she says with a conflicted sigh. "I feel like I've had to work tooth and nail for every single thing I have. So, to have this and, I don't know, _relax_ into it just feels...strange. I keep waiting to wake up or find out it was all some sort of sick joke."

He sighs and rests his chin on top of her head. "I know how you feel. I really thought tonight was it. I thought I'd walk through the door and you would have come to your senses and realized you can do so much better than me."

"I can't, you know," Lucy replies as she wraps her arms around him. "I don't think anyone could do better than you. Not for me at least."

"I'm not sure I believe that yet," he says with an emotional gulp.

"Well," she tells him as she looks up at him and then uses one hand on his cheek to guide his eyes to hers. "I suppose I'll have to convince you."

She moves her arm from around his middle to around his neck and then uses it to pull her lips to his in an intrusive kiss. He responds in kind, seeking to taste as much of her ask he can. A handful of kisses later, their clothes are spread around his living room and they're moving together on his couch. As always, the friction they build between them is exquisite. This time it's soft and full of earnest longing. They both want tonight to be the beginning of a new journey. They're baring honest emotions with every caress and every kiss.

He's never felt anything like it, and he's not interested in feeling _this_ with anyone else. He wants her. No matter where this leads them, he only wants her.

The next morning while they're sitting at Wyatt's kitchen table, drinking coffee, and blinking sleepily at each other he makes her an offer that visibly surprises her.

"Would you want to come to work with me today?" He asks hesitantly. He isn't sure if it's too much too soon, but it can't hurt to ask. Though, he won't lie. He _really _wants her to say yes. "I never did give you that tour and if Jiya finds out Dave met you and she still hasn't she might not forgive me. Before you say no, I know you said you need to work on your book. Dave's off today so his office will be empty and I'm sure he won't mind if you use it to write."

"You really want me to come?" She asks him with skeptical narrowed eyes.

"Lucy, I've been wanting to show you off since I saw you in that yellow dress when I visited you in L.A.," he confesses with a wolfish grin. It's the truth. He imagined her in cocktail attire leaving his friends in complete awe as he was peeling that satin work of art off of her after dinner. "Yes, I really want you to come. I _want_ to introduce you to my friends. You matter to me and they matter to me. Of course, you should meet. I just didn't want them to frighten you off. They're pretty intense. I mean, not as intense as _Amy_, but close."

He tosses a teasing wink at her and it has the desired effect. She laughs brightly and sweeps a measuring glance over him as she considers her answer. He _may_ be crossing his fingers under the table, hoping she gives him the answer he wants. Finally, she takes in a breath, preparing to speak.

"In that case, there's nothing I'd like more," she tells him with a fond smile. "I just hope they like me."

She looks genuinely nervous so he resists the urge to roll his eyes. The answer should be a given, but Lucy's too modest to see it. He already knows they'll love her. How could they not? He's not nervous about her meeting his friends. He's _relieved._ Finally, this is starting to feel real. He's ready for his life to get mixed up into hers. He's ready to know her coworkers names and drop any other plans to be her plus one. He wants to know everyone she knows as much as he wants her to meet everyone in his life, close friend or distant acquaintance — it doesn't matter.

He wants to be as integrated into her life as he possibly can be. He wants to make decisions and plans with her more often than he makes them without her. He wants as much of herself as she's willing to give him and he hopes she wants the same.

Every time he sees her he grows more and more certain. This is it. She's _it._ He got it wrong with Jess. He _won't_ get it wrong with Lucy. She has more and more of his heart every damn day. She's got his very life in her hands and he likes it that way. Maybe he's not ready to say those three infamous words out loud or to himself just yet, but he suspects he already feels them.

There's no turning back now. He might as well jump the rest of the way in.


	8. 7 Ahead of the Storm

**A/N: ** I finished chapter 12! So, since I finished Chapter 12, you guys get another chapter! yay!

I'm hoping I can write a total of 14 chapters and an epilogue and gets this finished, but considering Chapter 10 ending up being 3 chapters and extended my plan from 11 chapters to 14 we'll see how that works out.

Also, Happy (early) Memorial Day to my fellow Americans (and happy random Spring Bank Holiday to those of you in the UK? Or at least to the Brits out there? I've heard this is a thing.)

Happy reading!

PS - let me assure you in advance: everything will be okay.

* * *

Chapter Seven: Ahead of the Storm

* * *

"When it rains, it pours.

Gotta stay ahead of the storm.

Gotta stay ahead of the storm.

When that blue sky is torn,

Gotta stay ahead of the storm.

Keep holding on.

When that thunder's crashing, don't look back,

Just take my hand, keep running.

Gotta stay ahead of the storm.

Gotta stay ahead of the storm."

-"Ahead of the Storm" by The Shires

* * *

_JM: LUCY!_

_LP: Um, hi?_

_WL: We added you to the group text. Hope that's okay._

_JM: OF COURSE, it's okay. Lucy loves us. Right, Lucy?_

_LP: Right, Jiya._

_DB: We need you to settle something for us._

_JM: Because I'm RIGHT and these bozos are WRONG._

_LP: Okay, what's up?_

_RC: Who invented frequency hopping?_

_LP: Hedy Lamarr and George Antheil._

_JM: TOLD YOU. Thank you, Lucy. They didn't believe me._

_DB: An actress invented it? Seriously?_

_LP: Is that really hard to believe? What? Women can't be attractive AND smart?_

_EW: Yeah, WTF?_

_JL: Oh, boy. You stepped in it now, dude._

_WL: *facepalm* Bam-Bam, I know I've taken a bullet for you before but you're on your own with this one, buddy._

_DB: ..._

_RC: Dave is currently having an aneurysm and is not available. Please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeeeep._

_JM: Poor Dave. Lmao. I told you guys Lucy would know. Lucy knows everything._

_LP: Woah, don't oversell me. I don't know EVERYTHING._

_WL: No, you do. You definitely do. You're a bossy know-it-all. (But a cute one.)_

_LP: Well, at least I'm not a reckless hothead (but a cute one.)_

_JM: Omg, they're flirting in the group text. I ship this so hard._

_WL: You what now? Is that even english?_

_DB: Okay, if Lucy knows all, then let's test it._

_LP: Fire away, Misogyny Man._

_JL: Oh, I'm so using that nickname later._

_DB: ...I'm not—I didn't mean—oh forget it. What was the first Delta Force Mission?_

_LP: Give me a hard one, at least. 1979 Tehran. Getting the hostages out of Iran. Dubbed Operation Eagle Claw. Not exactly a shining success for our armed forces._

_WL: …_

_RC: Wyatt is currently having an aneurysm and is not available. Please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeeeep._

_JL: Hmmm interesting. Let me try. Lucy, what do you know about the origins of NASCAR?_

_WL: Jess…_

_LP: Like stock car racing, you mean? That NASCAR? You want ME to tell you about it?_

_JL: Yes. Yes, I really do._

_DB: Oh, this should be good._

_LP: Um, alright. Well, NASCAR started with smuggling moonshine. They were driving fast to get away from the cops and it turned into driving fast on dirt tracks. It's fascinating actually, in a subversive culture kind of way._

_WL: Are you shitting me, right now?_

_LP: What? Sports history is history too, you know._

_WL: Jesus, when's the next flight to LA and can someone tell Mason I won't be back in the office till Monday?_

_CM: I saw this was coming the minute she knew about Tehran. There's a flight at 4:30 this afternoon. Consider me told._

_LP: I'm confused. What's happening now?_

_JM: Wyatt's coming to LA to ravish you._

_LP: Oh. Okay._

_LP: Wait._

_LP: ..._

_LP: What?_

* * *

A Facetime call suddenly appears on her screen, interrupting the group text. She answers, though still stunned by the turn of that conversation. Was that serious or a joke? Because Wyatt's supposed to come out tomorrow night, not today.

She's so distracted that she doesn't even notice the call connecting and Wyatt's face in front of her until he speaks.

"You're killing me, you know."

"What? How?" She asks as she gets up to shut her office door.

"You're talking military and sports history with my friends all while being 7 hours away. It's a turn on but I can't do anything about it," he replies with a hungry grin. "Not _yet_ anyway. But maybe at six o'clock tonight I can."

"You were serious?" She asks in astonishment.

He turns the phone to show her that he's at home, in his bedroom. His army duffle is on his bed, half packed. "Would I be packing up for the weekend if I wasn't?"

She laughs at him and shakes her head. "Why? Because I know about Tehran and NASCAR?"

"Yes! Listen, I don't geek out over much," he admits. "But I geek out over military history and stock cars. Well, cars in general really. Keeping my Charger in top condition is all the hobby I need."

She narrows her eyes at him as a thought suddenly occurs to her. "Is that why you bought the house you did? Because of that huge garage?"

He scratches the back of his neck and shrugs with a guilty grin. "It's enough space to keep my Charger out of the weather and to work on another car someday."

"Oh god, are you one of those nit-picky guys who has to go over every feature of the car while at a dealership?" Lucy asks.

"You can't invest in a car without looking under the hood, Luce," he answers sheepishly.

"Does this mean you could change the oil in my car for free?" Lucy asks him teasingly.

He squints at her with a knowing smirk. "Is your light on?"

"To be fair, I don't really drive it that much—"

"Lucy," he says with a chuckle that contradicts his scolding glare. "You're gonna lock up your engine."

"Then I guess you'll have to take care of it for me," she replies as an inviting grin spreads across her lips.

"Guess, I will," he says with an amused shake of his head.

"You get in at 6?" She queries as she looks at the clock on her wall.

He nods. "United 540."

"I'll meet you in baggage claim then. I can't believe you're really coming early because I know that stock car racing started as smuggling moonshine." She laughs and then smiles brightly at him. "You're such a dork."

"What can I say? Knowledge is sexy."

Lucy snorts in self deprecation. "You're the first guy I've dated that thinks so."

"Seriously?" Wyatt asks her. He looks offended on her behalf. It's absolutely adorable.

"Let's just say, mansplaining is a very real thing and men in the academic field are the _worst_ offenders. Jonas, especially," Lucy answers while rolling her eyes.

"The more you talk about this guy the more I dislike him. He sounds like a total douchebag." Wyatt scowls with a look of utter disgust as the words leave his lips. It comforts her that he finds her ex's behavior so repulsive.

Lucy laughs and lifts one shoulder. "You're not wrong."

He checks his watch and then sighs. "Okay, I should finish packing, but I will see you tonight."

She beams at him before replying. "Can't wait."

The video call ends and Lucy tries her best to get at least a couple thousand more words written before calling it a day. Amy actually let her drive her own car today so she leaves from her office and heads straight to LAX. Traffic is awful. She parks in the garage instead of circling around baggage claim and then walks inside to wait. Just as she steps inside her phone buzzes with a text saying he's landed and about twenty minutes after that she finally spots him.

He doesn't see her. He's too busy chatting with an elderly couple and gesturing directions on a map they're holding. As she steps closer she realizes he's not speaking English. Is that...oh god, it is. He's speaking German!

Now, she gets what he meant when he told her knowledge is sexy. German is not an easy language to learn and he's speaking it very well. Or at least it sounds good to her untrained ears. She speaks French, very poorly according to her mother, and it has a very different sound, but he's not stumbling over the words. He's confident in what he's saying.

The couple smiles and waves and heads off in the opposite direction from Wyatt. He spots her a split second after that.

"You speak German?" She asks incredulously.

He laughs and then wraps his arms around her. "Well, hello to you too." She feels him place a kiss against her forehead and then tilts her face up to meet his lips with hers in a quick kiss. He grins against her lips as he replies. "Yes, I speak German. And Spanish. And Japanese. And Farsi."

She's not sure her eyebrows can climb any higher on her forehead. "You speak _four_ languages?"

"The Army sent me a lot of places before I settled in Palo Alto, ma'am," he tells her with a smirk. "You impressed?"

"Yes, and I want you to speak to me in each of those languages as soon as we're alone. Do you know how sexy that is?" She asks as she fights off the urge to kiss him into a stupor.

"Probably about as sexy as you knowing Tehran by its operation code name," he replies with a predatory grin.

He wraps his hand around hers as they head for the door. His duffle is on his shoulder so he has no checked bag. There's no reason to stop.

She hums thoughtfully and bites her bottom lip, knowing she'll call attention to her mouth. "You liked that, did you? Because there's a lot more where that came from."

He quirks a brow but doesn't speak so she takes it as a sign of interest.

"Operation Urgent Fury," she says as they step outside. "October 1983. The invasion of Grenada that led to the establishment of a democratic government. Operation Just Cause. December 1989 to January 1990. The invasion of Panama to combat drug trafficking and safeguard the lives of US Citizens. Operation Acid Gambit. December 1989. A super weird name for a rescue mission to retrieve Kurt Muse—"

Her sentence is interrupted by Wyatt pulling her against him and silencing her with an intrusive kiss in the middle of the sidewalk. The kiss continues long enough for her insides to turn to mush and her knees to weaken.

She wraps her arms around him to hold herself upright and weakly finishes her sentence as he pulls away. "—who was a civilian living in Panama and publicly accused of being a CIA operative."

He laughs at her dazed expression and tightens his arm around her waist as he pushes them forward toward her car. "You keep that up, Professor, and we won't make it back to your apartment."

"You may have to drive," she advises him. "After that kiss I can barely move."

"Fine by me. I can stop for what I need to change your oil on the way," he says with a soft scolding glare.

"Wyatt, I was joking. You really don't have to—"

"Stop. I don't mind. Really, I like working on cars," he assures her. He winks at her while he continues. "Even Volvos."

"In that case, my complex does have a small car care station. Not sure what you need, but everything besides the oil should be there already," she tells him.

"Perfect," he replies. He holds out his hand expectantly. "Keys?"

Why does this feel so comfortable, already? And why isn't it freaking her out? She wordlessly hands over her keys and then internally marvels at how _normal_ this seems. On the drive to her place he gets a phone call but quickly ignores it with a glower. He presses to decline and then entwines one of his hands with hers, leaving the other firmly on the wheel.

"You can take it, if you need to," she assures him.

He shakes his head and gives her a strained smile. "It's not important."

Somehow, she doubts that.

They stop at an auto parts store Lucy's never been to in her life. Lucy waits in the car until Wyatt emerges with a small bag. He's seems quieter than he was before.

"Everything okay?" She asks.

He nods, but doesn't actually say anything. When they reach her apartment he places a lingering kiss on her lips. She gets the feeling he's seeking comfort from her. For what, she's not sure. But now she's knows her suspicions are right. Something is wrong. It has to be that phone call.

"You order us food for delivery," he says as he lightly runs his hands up and down her arms. "And I'll go change your oil. Shouldn't take long."

She nods and drags her hands through his hair. She doesn't miss the way he closes his eyes and leans into her touch. What is it? What's bothering him all of a sudden?

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asks him again.

"Just tired," he replies with a weak smile.

"If you're tired then the car can wait."

"No," he says, a little too urgently. "I—I think it might help. Working on cars is how I unwind."

Unwind from what? He seemed perfectly relaxed at the airport.

"Okay, any preference for dinner?" She requests.

"Whatever you want will be fine," he answers. "I'm not picky."

He leaves after she tells him where the car care center is and then she orders Chinese. He arrives at the same time as the delivery and digs the cash out of his pocket before she can tell him not to. He hands off the bag of food to her and then goes to wash up and change without another word.

He's awfully pensive to just be _tired._ She knows that's not it, but what she doesn't understand is why he won't just _tell her_. His phone rings from the coffee table as they eat side by side. She recognizes Jessica's picture. He glances between Lucy and the phone before he sighs in resignation.

"I'd better take this."

She nods and expects him to just answer the call. She knows about Jess now so there's no reason not to. But then he stands and heads to the door, pointedly taking the call _away_ from her. It hurts more than she wants it to. Things were so good when she met him at the airport and now she feels like he's shutting down. She wants to understand. She wants to _help_. But how can she when he won't tell her what's wrong?

He's gone for nearly an hour. Her dinner is finished and his is cold when he steps back inside. She's doing her dishes and making a fresh pot of coffee for them while contemplating what could have shifted when he surprises her with a hand to the small of her back.

She jumps and then places a calming hand on her chest.

"Sorry," Wyatt mutters. "I thought you heard me come back."

"No, I was...thinking," she tells him hesitantly. "Jess okay?"

"Huh?" He asks as he distractedly glances down at his phone. "Oh, yeah, she's okay."

He offers no further details. The pain at his distance intensifies. She told him last weekend. He needs to talk to her. What are they even doing if he can't do that? So she tries one more time, giving him the benefit of a doubt.

"So, everything's good?"

"_Jesus, _Lucy, yes, for the third time, everything is _fine_."

She physically rears back as if he's slapped her. Wow. Okay. She definitely gets the hint. He doesn't want to talk. Not to her. He notices her sudden movement and winces. The look on his face is nothing short of tortured. But for the moment she's so hurt and angry that she can't bring herself to care. At least, not at first. But then...

His apologetic blue eyes find hers and the guilt she sees in them breaks her heart. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," she says cutting him off with a shake of her head. She finishes drying the last dish, and then walks back to the living room to get his forgotten food. She should have left well enough alone. So, he's not ready to tell her right now. She can wait.

"Is it really though?" He asks skeptically.

No, it's not. Because what if he never tells her? What if he doesn't want her invested in his life the way she wants to be? But she doesn't have the guts or the emotional will power to say any of that right then. She doesn't want to know the answer in the event that her doubts are right. So, her answers is less than truthful.

"Don't worry about it."

He looks as though he doesn't believe her but he lets the subject drop and then kisses the top of her head as he walks past her. "I'm going to take a shower. I think I still have plane germs on me."

She forces a smile and nods. "Okay. I'm gonna finish cleaning up in here."

Once her bedroom door is shut behind him, she drops his food on the kitchen counter and then gets a bottle of wine out of her fridge. If he's going to be like this then he may as well have stayed home. She really thought they made progress last weekend. He was so open about Jess. She loved that. His honesty made her feel valued in a way no one else ever had.

But here tonight, he's not making any effort to let her in. She pours a glass of wine and then collapses onto her couch. This Wyatt is not the Wyatt she's been accustomed too. This Wyatt is sullen and closed off. _Brooding_.

She's not sure what to do with this Wyatt.

He left his phone on the coffee table and suddenly it lights up with a text. He doesn't have his notifications set to private so she can see a preview of the message on his lock screen. She tries not to look but it's _right there_.

_Jessica: Just tell the abusive piece of shit to leave you alone. Also, kindly tell him to fuck off and stop calling the house. Emma's told the old bastard you don't live here anymore but he doesn't believe her._

She bites her lip and immediately feels like she's intruded. She walks back into the kitchen, away from the offending piece of technology. Abusive piece of shit? He had mentioned his father was awful and she knew he was raised by his grandfather. Could the 'old bastard' be his dad? If it is then she sees why he's being so moody.

Also, _abusive?_ God, did he...did he hit Wyatt? Imagining a small version of Wyatt in a dangerous situation like that makes her blood boil with protective rage. It's unfamiliar to her. She's rarely the protective type. As a kid, she had her moments when it came to Amy or her mother, especially after her father passed, but those moments were few and far between. So, this need to protect Wyatt is totally new.

How could anyone, let alone a father, treat their child so poorly?

It's no wonder he's so closed off and secretive.

She understands him a little better now, but it feels _wrong._ She didn't learn it from _him_. Just like the news of his divorce, she came across it second hand. Doesn't he know that he can talk to her about anything? Christ, she's told him about her mother and Jonas and how they made her feel worthless for so long. Does he think she won't understand? Does he not trust her to comfort him?

That idea of him not trusting her puts a crack in her heart. _She_ trusts _him_. Probably more than she should. She trusts him so completely and it never occurred to her that me might not return that trust. But now she thinks that must be the case and it makes her want to cry.

She's been thinking and slowly sipping her wine for an hour before she realizes he never came back out after his shower. The apartment is quiet. There's no sound of running water. She finishes cleaning up and then decides to get ready for bed. She finds Wyatt passed out on her bed. He's tucked under the covers and at least shirtless. Seemingly comfortable.

But he didn't even come back out to say goodnight.

She knows he must be dealing with a lot, but it's awfully hard to not be pissed at him. She suddenly feels like he has one foot out the door and she can't be sure if they're actually trying to build something or _not_. She brushes her teeth and washes her face and then puts on her pilfered button up before slipping under the covers next to him. She's comforted by the fact that he instinctively pulls her closer as soon as he feels her body heat next to him. It momentarily drowns out her niggling doubts and allows her to drift off in the safety of his arms.

Until sometime later, when she's shoved violently away from him as he literally _jumps_ from the bed. Her shoulder bumps the corner of the headboard and the nightstand. She bites back a whimper before flipping on her bedside lamp. She'll have a bruise there later. She finds him staring blankly ahead breathing heavily. His face may be blank but his eyes are wild. His head is on a swivel. She thinks he resembles a caged animal. He looks trapped and resentful.

She ignores the sting in her shoulder and crawls across the bed to him.

"Wyatt?" She asks softly.

His unfocused gaze finds her figure in the dim light and she watches as he zeroes in on her.

"Lucy?" He asks in a small, tinny voice.

She nods and hesitantly stands in front of him. "It's me. I—I think you had a nightmare."

"It felt so real," he mutters with a distracted expression. "I swear to you I was there."

"There where, Wyatt? What did you see?" She asks as she reaches for him.

He flinches to avoid her hand and she quickly pulls it back.

"Nothing," he says dismissively. "I—it was a dream. Don't worry about it."

She bites her bottom lip and debates whether or not she should push it. She held off earlier but he looks so terrified. How can she not ask? How can she keep herself from wanting to support him the way he needs? Or the way she suspects he needs, anyway, even if he doesn't realize it.

"But I am worried about it," she says lowly. "I'm worried about _you_."

"Don't be," he snaps. "I can take care of myself. I always have."

In other words, _I don't need you_.

The very answer she was terrified he'd give her plays on a loop in her head. It's an awful thing to hear more than once. She's angry yet devastated. The sadness is overwhelming the fury at this particular moment and she feels the need to flee.

Her bottom lip quivers against her will and she clamps down on it with her teeth to hopefully keep him from noticing. "Right. Okay. I get it."

Once again, she sees belated remorse fill his face. He looks as depressed as she feels. But, as horrible as it is, she can't deal with his emotions _and _her own.

"Oh god, Lucy, I—I didn't mean that." His voice splits over her name and the crack in her heart grows.

She nods but can't bring herself to meet his eyes. If he didn't mean it then why did he _say it_? He has to mean it. On some level, it has to be genuine. Again, the urge to run away from him is intense. She's never wanted to run from him before. Even when her happiness felt like a trap, she never wanted to hide. But now…

Now it's the only thing she can think about.

"It's alright," she lies. "I—I'm going to get a glass of water. Do you need any—No, sorry. Forget I asked."

His voice is impossibly soft as he replies. "I'm okay. Thank you for asking."

She turns and leaves the room. She doesn't get a glass of water.

Instead, she gets a blanket from the hall closet and lays down on the couch. She cannot go back in there. It's clear that she grossly misunderstood where they stand and where they're going. She's hurt and embarrassed and has no idea what to do next. For the first time, she worries if letting herself fall for Wyatt was a big tragic mistake.

It's those thoughts and her tears that follow her back to sleep.

* * *

He stares at the open doorway long after she leaves, unable to comprehend the damage he's just inflicted on her.

Why is he being such an asshole?

He hates the answer that comes back to him.

His dad's an asshole so maybe the apple truly doesn't fall far from the tree.

Or maybe he's afraid she'll see him differently once she knows. Will she? Will she look at him differently if he tells her about his dad? Or Syria? The first time he snapped at her it was because his bastard of an old man was harassing him for money again. Once every few months he pops back up to guilt Wyatt into some sort of donation. Wyatt knows it ends up buying booze. He isn't an idiot. His dad has always wasted any money he got his hands on. But something in Wyatt can't say no. After everything the man put him through, why can't he say no? It also has the advantage of getting the asshole to back off. For a little while at least.

And then to make matters worse, the ghost of his very alive father must have triggered something else. A reminder of another trauma. Because he dreamt of Syria. And it felt so real. He could hear the gunfire, feel the arid heat, _taste_ the blood in his mouth. He'd been there. He'd seen their faces. He'd left them all over again. And when he came too, vulnerable and panicked, Lucy was there. He was hit with the knowledge that she'd seen it all. She'd been there all along.

The shame turned to anger which became resentment and by the time it all reached Lucy it had twisted him into someone _hateful_. What is it he said to her?

"_But I am worried about it," she says lowly. "I'm worried about you."_

"_Don't be," he snaps. "I can take care of myself. I always have."_

What the hell is wrong with him? Lucy doesn't deserve this. Lucy is trying to be there for him, but his stubborn ass won't let her. She knows something's wrong. She wants him to talk to her about it, and after what happened last weekend he knows he needs to. He told her he would try. This is not trying.

He realizes Lucy's been gone a while and glances over at the clock on her nightstand. She's been gone nearly an hour. Surely, she's not still getting water? He forces himself to shuffle out into the living room. The kitchen is dark as the rest of the apartment, but he can see enough to make out a familiar form asleep on the couch. And there's not a single glass of water anywhere near her.

He sits down on the edge of her coffee table to look at her. Her head is resting on the armrest and the rest of her is covered by a fluffy throw blanket. But the worst part is the thing fisted tightly in her hand.

A rumpled tissue.

As his eyes adjust to the light he can discern tear stains on her cheeks.

He made her cry?

_He made her cry._ What kind of monster is he? She was trying to help him and _he made her cry_. He rubs his hands over his face and stifles his self loathing long enough to carefully lift her from the couch and carry her back to her bed. He should be the one sleeping on the couch. Not her.

He tucks her into her bed and places a repentant kiss against her forehead. He needs to fix this. He has to make this up to her.

But..._how_?

Sleep never finds him again. He's preoccupied with too many things.

He decides to start making everything up to her with breakfast.

He runs out as soon as the hour is reasonable enough and buys a selection of pastries from the nearest bakery. On the way back, he purchases a bouquet of wildflowers from a street vendor. Once in her apartment again, he makes eggs and bacon. He dumps out the coffee they never drank the night before and then makes a fresh pot. He puts the wildflowers in a vase he finds on the top of her fridge. By the time Lucy makes an appearance, he has the entire spread ready and waiting on her kitchen table.

At some point, she changed out of his blue button down. The sight of it feels like disheartening blow. Not that she isn't adorable in her matching pink plaid short and shirt set. She is, but it's just...a sign. She's distancing herself. He doesn't need to know her well to see that.

Her sad bleary eyes take in the table and then him standing nervously behind it.

"You...you made me breakfast?" She asks.

"I was a _mean_ asshole last night, Lucy. I know I was, and I don't want a repeat of that. I thought...breakfast would help us start fresh," he explains with a thick swallow.

She stares at him for a long time and for the first time he finds he can't tell what she's thinking or feeling. He doesn't like that.

"Okay," she agrees as she sits down first.

He follows her lead and takes the seat across from her, but she doesn't start to fill her plate. He takes the silence as an opening for him to talk, whether it is or not.

"I know this must feel a lot like deja vu. Like last weekend all over again," he says regretfully. "I'm sorry. I swear to you that I am not trying to be secretive or difficult."

"I told you. It's fine."

"Yeah, but...you said that last weekend too and then it wasn't. You were upset and you didn't want to tell me. How do I know that this isn't more of that?" He asks in concern.

It is more of that. He knows it is.

"You wanted me to butt out so this is me butting out. Now that I know what you want, it really is fine," she assures him.

He shakes his head adamantly. "But that's not what I want. I don't want you to butt out. I didn't mean any of that bullshit I said last night."

"You must have meant some of it, Wyatt. Or else why would you say it?" Lucy asks him pointedly.

"Because I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to acknowledge that I was upset," Wyatt confesses.

"Well, now I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to acknowledge that I'm upset," she counters.

"Lucy, please—"

"Can we drop it? Can we just start fresh like you suggested? I mean, does any of this mean you're going to tell me what happened to upset you yesterday?" She asks as she motions to the breakfast he made for her.

She's right. He still can't bring himself to talk about it. No matter how apologetic he feels. "I _want_ to tell you."

"But you can't. Yes, you said something like that last weekend," Lucy says with a sad sigh. "I understand, Wyatt. I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me something you're not ready to tell me. But I don't like being shut out either."

"It's not my intention to shut you out." It really isn't. He's not sure why he does it.

"But that's exactly what you're doing," Lucy tells him. "I'm just...I'm not sure there's a solution for this. If you're not ready to talk to me then you're not ready to talk to me. There's not much either of us can do about that. I simply won't ask anymore. If you want to share, you can tell me. But until then let's just forget last night ever happened, okay? We only have the weekends and I don't want to waste them fighting."

She seems sincere. What she wants also sounds logical. But it can't be what she truly wants. She wants them to ignore his horrible behavior last night and...what? Go on just like before? Can they do that?

"You're really okay with pretending last night never happened?" Wyatt asks her with a worried glance.

"I just want you to be happy, Wyatt, and I don't think you will be if I force you to talk to me," Lucy admits in a hushed tone.

"But will ignoring it make _you_ happy?" He questions her in return.

"Making you happy will make _me _happy," she replies.

She looks him in the eye when she says it, but he's not sure it's the truth. Maybe some version of the truth, but not the _entire_ truth. "If you're sure," he agrees hesitantly.

"I'm sure." Her answer sounds steady and decisive.

Who is he to question it? If she says this is what she wants then doesn't he have to respect that decision? If she's not pushing him, does he have the right to push her? No, he doesn't think he does. But the last thing he wants is for her to regret this - _to regret them_.

Why can't he just talk to her? What is wrong with him?

After breakfast, Lucy showers and changes clothes. When she comes back out to the living room she seems to be in brighter spirits, as if their talk really helped. Maybe his instincts are wrong. Maybe ignoring it really is what she wants.

She certainly looks happier than she did last night or this morning.

They go out for lunch and he's surprised when they run into Emma and Jessica. It seems they've come to L.A. to visit Emma's mother, who's in a nearby assisted living facility.

Lucy invites them both to join them. Wyatt wishes she wouldn't. Not because he doesn't enjoy at least Jessica's company, but because if it's just the two of them he can continue to try and make up for his colossal mistakes last night.

"Wait," Emma says as their food arrives. She's just googled Lucy's name on her phone and looks pleasantly surprised. "Your mother is Carol Preston. _The_ Carol Preston?"

Lucy nods and smiles politely. "Yes, _the_ Carol Preston."

"And you're not working at Stanford because?" Emma asks in a tone that sounds jealous.

Wyatt wants to jump in and change the subject. The last thing Lucy needs on top of his stupid ass is to talk about her mother. But Lucy's hand lands on his thigh, as if she knows exactly what he's thinking and wants to stop him.

"Because I want to be known as more than Carol Preston's daughter," she answers with a forced breezy shrug.

"Being Carol Preston's daughter comes with a lot of connections you can _use_ to get you places though," Emma argues. "I'd use that if I were you, Princess."

Lucy tries to hide her grimace at the teasing nickname, but he and Jess both notice.

"I think it's brave," Jess says as she bumps Emma's shoulder and gives her a stern glare. "Everyone deserves a chance to find out who they are independent of their family name. Besides, you're brilliant. I doubt you need anyone else's connections to take you where you want to go."

"Thank you," Lucy demures. "But I don't know about brave. I think, mostly, I'm running away."

It occurs to him to question whether or not Lucy ignoring last night is her way of running away from that too. He thinks it might be. He really wishes she would yell at him. Scream at him. _Something_. He knows she's not happy about this or _fine_. No matter what she says. Why won't she just say so?

Wyatt's phone rings and everyone at the table turns to look at it. The unlisted number tells him exactly who it is. He declines the call and then clears his throat.

"The, uh, house-made pretzels are pretty good here, huh?" He asks.

Lucy looks down at her hands that are folded in her lap. She grabs her small purse and stands, never once meeting his eyes.

"Excuse me," she says with a smile that, to him, is obviously forced but seems to convince at least Emma.

Though, not Jess.

"Oh, Wyatt," Jess says with a tired sigh once Lucy is out of earshot. "What did you do?"

"Yesterday, I...with everything with my dad—I fucked up, Jess. So bad that I'm not sure it can be fixed," Wyatt admits in a rush. "She kept asking me what was wrong and I shut her down everytime. She says it's okay and that I can just talk when I'm ready but I…"

"But you don't believe her," Emma finishes for him. "You don't think she might know her own mind better than you do?"

"No, he's right," Jess declares. "She's lying through her teeth. She's upset. She's pretty good at hiding it, though. She's had some practice before you came along, Wy."

"Yeah, with her controlling mom and a jackass ex-fiancé. I don't want to treat her the way they did. I get the impression that they took advantage of her. She told me herself that she's not good at confrontation, and I think she's hell bent on avoiding it with me," Wyatt confides.

"She's putting your happiness ahead of her own, you think?" Jess asks.

He nods emphatically. "I think she believes whatever she's feeling would hurt me so she's acting like we're fine, and I tried to talk to her about it this morning but it's like...like talking to a brick wall."

Jess chuckles at him. "Yeah, I know what that's like. Looks like you finally found someone as stubborn as you."

"Wonderful," he replies sarcastically.

"You need to talk to her," Jess insists.

"I know, I tried—"

"Not about _her_, Wyatt. _About you_," Jessica advises with an irritated huff. "She wants to be there for you. To be a part of your life. I don't think you're going to be able to fix this until you decide if you want that too. I know you like it when people come to you for help but relationships are two way streets. You've _always_ had an issue with that. If you want to help her then you have to let her return the favor. You need to let her in, and in a way that you _never_ let _me_ in. If not then you should end it now before she ends up with a broken heart."

Emma stiffly nods her agreement. She's in the conversation against her will but if she's in it then she plans to contribute. "Jess refused to see me again until I let her in. It wasn't easy but I've yet to regret it. You can't expect one person to do all the sharing, Logan. It has to be reciprocal. And if you can't do that then you should let her go."

Letting her go is impossible. He can't imagine not seeing her again. He wants her too much. _Needs _her too much.

_Loves_ her too much.

Loves her? Wait, _loves her_?

"Holy shit," Wyatt says as he spots Lucy across the restaurant, leaving the restroom. His heart swells at the sight of her and he knows it's true.

"What?" Jess asks with a furrowed brow.

"I'm in love with her," Wyatt admits. "I—I love her."

"If you love her then _talk_ to her," Jess orders. "Don't fall into old habits and fuck it up anymore. _If_ you love her—"

"_I do_," Wyatt insists as Lucy edges closer to their table.

"Then make a goddamn effort, Wyatt. _Show her_."

"Sorry about that," Lucy says in a falsely chipper tone as she reclaims her seat next to him. "But I'm back."

Show her. _Show her_.

Easier said than done.


	9. 8 Who You Love

Chapter Eight: Who You Love

* * *

"My girl she ain't the one that I saw coming,

And sometimes I don't know which way to go.

And I've tried to run before,

But I'm not running anymore,

Cause I've fought against it hard enough to know,

That you love who you love."

-"Who You Love" by John Mayer Ft. Katy Perry

* * *

They floundered through the rest of the weekend. Wyatt was more affectionate after lunch ended with Emma and Jessica but not more open. His cell phone went away completely, tucked into a pocket in his duffle. So, at least she didn't have to be reminded of the things he refused to tell her.

Every now and then, Wyatt looked thoughtful like he had something to say but a moment later he would give her a charming smile and whatever it was would be forgotten. She hates that he can't talk to her. She wants him to rely on her. She wants to know the bad and the good of his life - his past. She wants to know it all. Every bit of him, inside and out.

After all, that's what happens when you love someone, right? It doesn't matter who they were. If you truly love them, then you love them for who they were and who they've become.

She freezes. Love? She _loves _him? Oh god, she does! That's why she couldn't bring herself to end things with him! She thought about it while she was crying on the couch. She wondered if it would have been best for both of them. But when morning came and she saw his face…

All she wanted was for things to go back to the way they were at the airport.

Now, she understands why. Because she loves him and she _can't_ let him go. She doesn't want to be without him. She would rather pretend being shut out of his life doesn't kill her than give him up. She would rather suffer in silence than upset him with her hurt feelings. After all, it's his story to tell. What right does she have to it? She doesn't want to see him unhappy. She _loves_ him too much. And talking about what was going on with him seemed to make him _unhappy_. So, she decided they would ignore it.

Someone had to make a firm decision about it and Wyatt wasn't going to, considering their talk the next morning. So, _she did_, and yes maybe things are a bit awkward now but it doesn't affect the heat behind his kisses or the thrill she always feels when his callused hands touch her bare skin. All of that remains the same in the most delicious way, which they proved numerous times on his last night in L.A.

But now it's Monday morning and Wyatt is gone. Back to his own life, four hundred miles away from hers. The realization the she loves him is supposed be exciting, but all she feels is dread. Because there's no way he feels the same, is there? If he can't trust her or confide in her then how can he love her?

She slams her laptop closed. Writing isn't going to happen today. She knows that already. She needs to tell someone about her realization of feelings.

Just not Wyatt or any of his friends, who are slowly becoming her friends too.

She calls Amy and speaks in a rush as soon as her sister answers.

"I'm in love with Wyatt Logan."

"Your tone seems to indicate that's a bad thing," Amy replies in confusion.

"It is when it's one sided," Lucy says with a groan.

"Excuse me, what?" Amy asks angrily. "How could that jackass not be in love with you? Last time I saw him he swooned any time you _moved_. Did he _say_ he wasn't in love with you?"

"Not exactly," Lucy admits sheepishly.

"Meaning you haven't talked to him and you're just assuming he doesn't love you," Amy states in a reproachful tone. "_Lucy_. You can't just assume you know how people feel or what they want. We've talked about this."

"He won't confide in me or talk to me about his life, Amy. How else am I supposed to take that? I've let him in. I've told him about mom and Jonas and in return he's shut me out. Would he do that if he loved me too?" Lucy asks her as she allows herself to unload her resentment on her sister. "He says he wants to tell me but he can't. I don't even know what the _fuck_ that means. If he can't trust me with what hurts him then how can we move forward? I mean he leaves the room every time he gets a damn phone call. How am I supposed to interpret that?"

"I don't know, sis—"

"Everything I've learned about him I've learned second hand or had to dig for it! He didn't even tell me where he worked! We had to google it! And then his ex-wife—He let me run into her in public without telling me a damn thing about her!"

"Yeah, that was a pretty big mistake," Amy agrees with an audible wince.

"And this weekend, obviously he was in a funk. Something was bothering him but when I asked he snapped at me and then later he had some kind of awful nightmare and when I tried to help he basically told me he didn't need my help. Well, fine. But if he doesn't need me then what the hell are we doing?"

She's yelling now, but she can't seem to stop. All the things she's been afraid to say to Wyatt are being thrown at Amy. It should feel good to say them out loud, but it doesn't. The wrong person is on the receiving end of the words.

Amy sighs sadly and, even though Lucy can't see her, she knows she's shaking her head. "Have you told Wyatt any of this? Does he know how upset you are?"

She goes quiet and Amy just _knows_.

"Lucy, this is exactly what you did with mom and Jonas. You have to tell people when they upset you. If you don't say anything then they can't change their behavior. There's no chance to fix it. Even if they suspect you might be upset, you tell them otherwise. Stop doing that. It's not healthy," Amy admonishes. "You'll never be happy if you keep denying your own needs."

"I don't want to make things worse," she says quietly. "Every time I've said something about how I feel, it's been turned around on me and I can't do that again. Do you know how insane they made me feel?"

"I know, Luce, but not everyone is as awful as mom or Jonas. If you love Wyatt then you have to give him a chance to make this right. You have to tell him how much he's hurt you," Amy says with soft encouragement. "How is he going to know otherwise? He can't read your thoughts."

She sighs and then grins slightly. "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like he can."

"Until you insist that you're fine. Then what's he supposed to do? Not trust your judgement on how you feel?"

"Dammit, stop making sense," Lucy says with a guilt-weary groan.

"Talk to him," Amy insists. "He might surprise you. I mean there's a reason you fell in love with him, right?"

"Right," she says hesitantly.

The minute she hangs up, she has her second epiphany of the morning. She's angry at Wyatt for not trusting her, but she's guilty of the _exact same thing._ But where he doesn't trust her with his past, she doesn't trust _him_ with her present.

Jesus, this is a mess. _They're_ a mess.

Amy's right. She needs to try and talk to him this weekend. She needs to clear the air.

She needs to _trust him._

* * *

It's Wednesday and he and Lucy have only exchanged a handful of texts. That's not normal for them. He knows Jess told him to let Lucy in. To make an effort. But everything seemed fine after they left lunch. The mood was lighter and their chemistry was unchanged. It felt more like it did when he first saw her in the airport. If she said she was fine, did he really want to ruin that by insinuating he didn't trust her answers? Should he bring down the weekend by telling her about his dad or about Syria?

He just wasn't sure - still isn't. He decided to show her instead. He decided to shower her with affection and physical intimacy. If she was pissed at him, he couldn't feel it in her touch or her kisses. So, maybe he's wrong? Maybe she really is fine.

He hears his receptionist politely arguing with someone in the outer office just before his office door swings open and Jess plants herself in one of the chairs across from his desk.

"So, what happened after our lunch?" She asks, not bothering with a greeting.

Typical Jess.

"What do you mean?" He asks in confusion.

"With Lucy. What happened? Did you talk?"

"You realize it's weird for my ex-wife to be so involved in my love life, right?" Wyatt asks sarcastically.

"Stop stalling. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," He answers with a shrug. "She's fine."

"Is she actually fine or does she just _seem_ that way?" Jess asks with a knowing stare.

"How the hell am I supposed to know the difference?" Wyatt says with a resentful huff. "If she tells me she's okay, shouldn't I trust that? What if she's being honest, but my pushing her is what actually pisses her off?"

Jess gives him a thoughtful glance but eventually nods in understanding. "Fine, I can give you a pass with that. But did you try to open up to her? Did you share anything? She's not like me, Wyatt. She didn't grow up with you. She didn't witness all the ways the world hurt you first hand. If you want her to love you, the way you love her, then she needs to see every bit of you. The good and the bad. And the only way that's going to happen is if you _tell her_."

"I feel like we salvaged the weekend. I didn't want to risk ruining it again," Wyatt says with a remorseful expression.

"So, she's not the only one ignoring what happened then?" Jess asks him with a scolding glare. "Ignoring it won't make it better, Wyatt. It didn't work with us. It won't work with Lucy, either."

"Why do you care, exactly?" Wyatt snaps with an annoyed eye roll. He doesn't need his ex-wife's advice on this. She doesn't know Lucy like he does.

But, he thinks, she does know _him_. The _worst_ version of him, in fact.

She doesn't react to his harsh words. She answers him, looking completely unbothered. "Because you deserve to be happy, Wy, and thanks to Lucy you have a real chance at it. You've been happier these last few weeks than I've _ever_ seen you and that's _including_ when things were good with us." Jess smiles weakly at him and shrugs. "After all the pain we put each other through, I can't stand back and let you waste this chance. I was a real bitch to you when we were at our worst. I manipulated you and cheated on you. You never deserved that so, I don't know, I guess I'm trying to make up for it the only way I can. With goddamn _tough_ love. Sherwin always did say you needed a good smack to the back of the head every now and then. Consider me that smack."

He snorts but grins at her with soft mirth. "I think you liked my Grandfather more than you ever liked me."

She laughs and nods, unashamed. "When you're right, you're right."

She sets a bag of take out down on his desk and then pats his hand.

"Talk to her, Wyatt. Tell her about your dad. Tell her about Syria. Pour out the contents of your entire heart. I meant what I said, Lucy isn't me - in more ways than one. She's more compassionate than I ever was. She's got a heart for people. She'll understand. She won't _judge_."

"How do you know that?" Wyatt asks worriedly.

"Because I see the way she looks at you. She loves you, Wyatt. Maybe she hasn't said the words, but it's written all over her face anytime I see you together. She loves you in that unmovable way that means she'd love you even if she didn't want to. Like her love for you is weaved into the very fabric of the universe."

He stares at Jessica in disbelieving awe. "You see all of that when she looks at me?"

She nods and smiles secretively.

"How can you be _certain_ that's what you see?"

She lifts one shoulder carelessly as she answers. "Because...because that's how I look at Emma. It's easy to recognize it in other people when you feel it yourself. I found my meant to be, and I think you've found yours too. Lean into it. Don't fight it. Especially if she makes you happy."

He watches her leave in pensive silence. Could Lucy really and truly love him?

There's only one way to find out, isn't there? He has to _talk_ to her. He can't just listen anymore. He has to _actively_ give Lucy the broken pieces of him and hope for the best. He has to _trust_ her. That's never been an easy thing for him to do, and certainly not with his heart.

But his conversation with Jessica left him sure of just one thing, Lucy is worth the risk. The chance of being happy _with her_ is worth any and all potential heartbreak.

* * *

He picks her up after he gets off work on Friday. She appears to be in good spirits, though he feels her nervous energy like an electrical current all around her. She crushes him with a hug and then kisses him fiercely.

"I missed you," she admits as she pulls back to meet his eyes.

He barely withholds his sigh of relief as he bumps her nose with his and presses his forehead to hers. "I missed you too. Especially since I haven't heard much from you this week." He considers her reluctantly before he continues. "Are we...okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I was just working on my book."

The relief he felt vanishes in an instant. He _knows_ that isn't the truth. He feels it in his veins.

He takes her small suitcase from her with one hand and then holds one of her hands tightly with the other. She's trying to pull away from him emotionally. He's trying to counter that physically. It won't really work. He knows that, but he doesn't know what else to do. They walk to his car in silence, and it follows them while he pulls out of the parking garage.

"So," he says as they drive toward his house. "How's L.A.? How's Amy? Catch me up."

"Nothing exciting happened," she answers with a muted chuckle. "Just me camped out in my office and Amy coming by to force feed me salad. The usual."

He feels suddenly jealous of Amy. She gets to see Lucy throughout the week. _She_ gets to be the one to keep Lucy from working too hard. _Amy_ takes care of Lucy when she forgets to take care of herself. What if _he_ wants a chance to do that? Will he have to move 400 miles away to get that chance?

Just like he had to that first weekend, he reminds himself: horse _then_ cart. They're currently hanging on by a very thin thread. He needs to fix that _first_. If he doesn't fix that then he'll have no reason to consider relocating.

And he is seriously considering relocating.

"Anything happen here?" She asks him. "The group text was quiet this week."

"We have a project reaching the prototype stage. They're all too nervous to text," Wyatt tells her, a fond smile stretching across his face as he thinks of his friends.

"Wow, good for them," Lucy says with genuine affection. "I hope it goes well."

"It will. They're literal rocket scientists. I have no doubts," Wyatt replies with a confident grin.

Awkward silence descends upon them again and Wyatt can honestly say the effort he's having to put into this interaction is a _first. _Everything until now has been so natural and easy. Even if he was buying her nonsense about being okay, this silence would tell him otherwise.

His cell phone rings and he lets out a labored sigh before declining the call. It's Jessica and given how she's been on his case about Lucy he's not sure that's a safe call to take in front of her. If possible, the action of declining the call brings on _more_ awkwardness and causes Lucy to angle her entire body away from him.

"Would you like to pull over and let me out of the car so you can take your phone call?" She asks in a voice so cold that he may have actually shivered.

"What?" He asks in shock.

"You just seem to have an issue talking on the phone around me. I thought you might want your privacy," she clarifies sharply.

He sucks in a breath and feels his face pinch in regret. He wants to say that's not true. That he doesn't do that. But he does. He's never let her over hear a single phone call and he never stopped to think about how that might make her feel until now.

"No, I don't want to pull over and let you out of the car," he replies lamely. He has no idea what else to say. "And declining that call wasn't because you're here. I would have declined it even if you weren't." Probably, he would have. Jessica was currently on his last nerve, after all.

He hears a disbelieving grunt from her side of the car and then nothing.

"I'm going to take that to mean that we aren't _actually_ okay," he states as he turns onto his street.

"You tell me," she says in a tone that's intended to sting. "You know more about me than I know about you so you're probably in the best position to judge the situation."

Definitely not okay then.

He swallows thickly and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Lucy…"

His sentence trails off as his words fail him and after a long stretch of silence Lucy speaks up in a biting tone.

"_What_, Wyatt?"

He pulls in his driveway and cuts the engine. "Have you been upset about this since last weekend?"

She scoffs at him. "Longer than that."

Okay, _what?_

"Longer than...that?" He knows he sounds as bewildered as he feels.

"Everything I know about you I've had to look up myself or learn from someone else," she says with a huff as she finally twists in the seat to face him. "The most you've ever told me about yourself was within that first weekend in South Carolina. Or after you felt guilty about not telling me something else. How is that supposed to make me feel? Am I going to have to corner you every time? Are you _ever_ going to trust me enough come to me willingly? And if not, then why the hell are we even bothering to try?"

"Lucy, you surprised me in my office nearly a _month_ ago. You've been sitting on this hurt for four weeks and _never_ told me?" He asks, dismayed by the idea of her stewing so long.

He's horrified that she could have been upset all this time and he had _no idea_. She stays silent and he takes that as confirmation. He feels a familiar combination of guilt and anger that takes him back to those screaming matches he and Jessica always fell into. He doesn't want that with Lucy but, _holy hell,_ is he really that hard to talk to?

"You know, seems to me, you don't trust me either if you can't let me know when I've upset you," he says as his eyes narrow into a glare. "So, it feels sort of hypocritical to lecture me on _trust_. I could ask you all the same questions. Am I going to have to _corner you_ for you to tell me how you honestly feel? Are you ever going to trust me enough to drop this stupid mask of _fine_ that you constantly wear?"

"Why would I share with you if you won't share with me?" She asks heatedly. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are full of fire, but he sees remorse lingering in them too.

He knows her mother was controlling and Jonas made her feel like shit, but he's not them. He doesn't want her to be perfect or fit some sort of unrealistic expectation. He wants _her_. Exactly how she wants to be. How can she not see that?

"I'm not your mother, Lucy. I don't want you to sit down and do as your told. I want _you_. Messy, angry, hurt — whatever the hell you want to be. _That's what I want_. I don't need you to shield me from your feelings. If I piss you off then _let me have it_," he insists with a searing glare. "I can deal with that a lot easier than all the _pretending._ I've been down that road before. Ignoring the hurt doesn't erase it from existence. And I also can't read your mind. So if you don't tell me when something is wrong _how the hell _do you expect me to address it?"

He shakes his head and then lightly bangs on the steering wheel in frustration. His volume is rising with every question and he _despises _himself for it.

But he despises himself for the thoughtlessness of his next words _more._ "Makes me wonder if your ex was as intentionally hurtful as you think or if you just kept him in the damn dark like you've done with me."

The minute he says it, he knows he's gone too far.

_Fuck_. He desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Lucy jerks away from him as if he's physically hurt her. He sees tears form in her eyes. He wants to look away but he forces himself to hold her furious stare. He deserves this. Whatever comes next, he deserves it. Why is he always such a bastard? Is it genetic? Is all his work to avoid becoming his father pointless? It certainly seems like it.

"I kept him the dark? Are you kidding me? Are _you_ of all people accusing me of not talking? And even if that was the case, are you seriously trying to say him being oblivious to my feelings gave him the right to sleep with _multiple_ women behind my back? Please tell me you don't find that justifiable?" She raises her voice to match his and while she yells he watches her pull up an app on her phone. Her entire body is a shade of red he's never seen before. He can see it spreading from her hair line to the tips of her fingers.

He feels like a goddamn bully. Any resentment he harbored for her keeping secrets vanishes instantly.

"Open the trunk," she demands as she pushes her door open.

His eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why?"

"I need my bag," she says furiously as she slips her purse strap over her shoulder and gets out of the car.

He follows as hastily as he can. "We'll get it later. Lucy, we need to talk about this."

"We can't get it later. I need it _now_." She anxiously glances from her phone to the street and avoids his face completely.

"What did you do on your phone?" He asks as fear builds in his chest.

"I ordered a car. I need my bag."

"What?" He asks. All the air rushes out of his lungs. He knows he heard her wrong. He _had_ to. "You _what_?"

"I'm going home. I don't have to stay here and listen to this," she says as her breathing becomes ragged and her bottom lip quivers.

He watches every movement. The way her teeth bite down on her lip to keep it from shaking and her arms fold across her chest protectively. The lost look in her eyes, even as she avoids meeting his distressed ones. The slight tremble in her hand that's clutching her phone like a lifeline.

"That's it?" He asks weakly. "One fight and you just leave? We need to finish this. We need to get it all out now. I've tried to avoid fights like this before and it _always _makes things worse."

"I have been here before too, Wyatt. I have been made to feel as if I were crazy and the _only_ problem. I'm not going to put myself through that again. Once was _enough_!" She yells shrilly.

The deafening silence that follows her outburst threatens to rend him in two. That is _not_ what he was trying to say. He would never—

"Lucy," he croaks. His voice is gravelly and raw as he feels his own eyes water. "That is not what I meant. Not a single part of me thinks that you're crazy or the _only _problem. Trust me on that. I _know_ I'm an unbearable bastard. I try not to be but I guess...well I'm my father's son. Hotheaded and stupid and just fucking _mean _sometimes. You are _not_ the only problem. You're the lesser problem. We're at each other's throats right now mostly because of _my mistakes_. I am well aware of that."

Her shoulders are shaking and her hands are covering her face as he talks. She's sobbing. She's standing in his driveway, _sobbing_. And it's all his own damn fault.

She eventually speaks, but she sounds defeated. As if she's already lost. His chest aches and his hands ball into fists. The urge to reach for her is overwhelming. He cannot take this. He cannot watch her hurt _this much. _

"I'm tired, Wyatt. I'm tired of worrying about being selfish. I'm tired of taking the high road and being told that's still not good enough. I'm _tired_ of thinking my happiness is less than someone else's. _I'm tired_. Please, just let me get my bag and go," she begs.

"No."

"Why not?" She lets out a pained whimper and stomps one foot. Despite the situation he grins weakly. He finds the action strangely adorable even if his heart is breaking.

He steps closer but keeps his hands to himself. It's the most difficult thing he's ever done. He wants to hold her, but she's protecting herself from him for a reason. He won't force himself on her when she wants nothing more than to run away.

"Because," He says with a loud swallow. "Your happiness isn't less than anyone else's, Lucy. Certainly not less than mine and I can't let you walk away from me believing that or believing that _I _think that. Nothing could be _further_ from the truth."

A car pulls into the driveway, behind his, and the driver steps out. "Lucy Preston?"

She sniffles and nods before waving half heartedly. "Please, Wyatt, my bag. I'll leave without it if I have to."

"Don't leave," he pleads, a little desperately. "Stay and talk this out with me."

"_Please_," she repeats. "I—I can't. I want to but I _can't_."

He wonders if she realizes she's using his line against him. He genuinely doesn't think she does. It's the role reversal he deserves. Karma really is a bitch.

He wipes a hand across his wrecked face and opens his trunk. He walks her bag to the driver, who then takes it to the back. Wyatt pauses in front of Lucy and meets her red rimmed eyes with a determined stare.

"I'm not giving up on this," he promises. "I'm not giving up on _us_."

He risks invading her space to place a lingering kiss to her temple.

"Travel safely," he says as he keeps his lips pressed to her skin. "I'm sorry. You deserve so much more than this. If you change your mind and you want to talk, I'm here. I'm _always_ here."

He breathes deeply, taking in her scent and the feeling of her so _close_, and then steps away. She doesn't utter another word, and he stays rooted to his spot until the tail lights that are pulling her away from him fade from view.

What _just_ happened? How did he let it happen? What _the fuck_ does he do now?

He supposes he has two options. He can go inside, crack open a bottle of whiskey, and get wasted _or_ he can pick himself up and _fight_ for her.

The decision comes to him immediately.

No way in hell is he letting Lucy Preston go that easily.

* * *

She doesn't give a damn what she looks like when she walks up to the ticket counter. She's sure there's mascara running down her puffy face, but what does it matter? Everything just blew the hell up with Wyatt. Possibly too badly to fix. She trades her ticket for the next flight back to Los Angeles. She cries through the flight, scaring the college age guy sitting next to her. She knows because he fidgets and glaces at her warily the whole time. She should care, but she just can't muster up the pride.

She's walks through her apartment door just before midnight and doesn't bother changing clothes. She simply collapses onto her bed in her jeans and t-shirt. She suspects she'll have to wash her pillowcases in the morning. They'll be stained with make up for sure.

If she can pull herself together long enough to be human, that is.

She wants to sleep for a month or so and completely ignore the world around her. He wanted her to stay and talk, but she _couldn't_. Panic drowned out every other thought as soon as he brought up Jonas. Even after he apologized all she could hear was him blaming _her_ for what happened with Jonas.

Does he see her the way Jonas did? Does Wyatt think she's over dramatic and silly? Does he think she sees problems where there aren't any?

The fear that he might treat her the way Jonas did overwhelmed her and nothing he said could have kept her from leaving. Even though she knows…

_Oh, god._

She _knows_ Wyatt isn't Jonas. He's never been like Jonas. Every fiber of his being is different. Not only is he not like Jonas _now_, he never could be. But Lucy's never let herself be that outwardly upset before with anyone aside from Amy and she was not prepared for the way it drained her of all rational thought.

It's only now that she's at home, four hundred miles away from Wyatt, that she really sees what's happened.

She ran away. _Again_. Like she always does.

She told him that first weekend that her first instinct was flight. _She told him._

So, at least she's consistent. If only she could be consistent at _anything _else.

The spectacular way she failed to listen to Wyatt, the memory of him begging her to stay, fogs up her brain until she's sobbing again. She curls up on her side and hugs herself tightly. What did she do? Could he ever forgive her? How badly did she hurt him?

Has she just completely ruined everything they could be?

Did she throw away every beautiful possibility of a life with Wyatt Logan?

Until Wyatt, it had been over a year since she'd cried herself to sleep. After her mother and Jonas she promised herself she would never let that happen again. It makes so much sense that Wyatt Logan is the one to force her to break that promise. _Twice_ now.

The world fades to black around her, but not for long.

She's not sure how late it is but the room is pitch black when her eyes begin to open. The sun hasn't started to rise yet. There's a distant banging from somewhere beyond her bedroom door. Insistent and _loud_. There's no way she, or any of her neighbors, could ignore it.

Her eyes don't want to open. Her face is stiff from dried tears. She forces her bleary eyes to focus and then pads across her apartment in socked feet. Before she can look through the peephole she hears an exchange on the other side of her front door.

"What the hell? People are trying to sleep here."

_Noah_.

"Yeah, just back up, Doc, this doesn't concern you."

She gasps at the familiar voice and feels water pool in her lashes again. _Wyatt._

"I think it does. Do you know how late it is? If Lucy wanted to see you I doubt you'd be banging on her door in the middle of the night."

"And you'd know that based on just the _one_ date, would you?"

She bites her lip to reign in a laugh. Smug asshole. God, she loves him.

Did he really come for her?

"Listen, man, I don't want to have to call the cops, but I will."

Lucy rolls her eyes at Noah's threat. She should open the door before they get into a brawl in the middle of the hallway.

She rips the door open and stares at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest. A part of her thought she would open the door and discover she's been dreaming or hallucinating. But she isn't. He's here. He's _really _here.

His eyes crash into hers and she can see all ability to breathe leave him immediately.

"Lucy," he rasps.

God, her name on his lips is perfection. Has it really only been a few hours since she's seen him?

"Is he bothering you, Lucy?" Noah asks from his open doorway.

She looks between Wyatt and Noah briefly before she shakes her head at him. "No," she says as a watery smile overtakes her face. "Never."

Before Wyatt can even manage to blink she's throwing herself into his arms. He manages to catch her but not without losing a bit of his footing. They collide against the wall next to Noah's still open door. He melts in her arms. All the tension and stress she saw in him when she answered her door disappears in an instant.

She feels his lips all along the side of her head. From the shell of her ear, to her temple, to the top of her head. He showers her with relieved kisses long after Noah disappears back into his apartment. She cries against his chest and holds him tighter. She was so awful to him and he _still came to find her_. Why? How? She wouldn't blame him if he decided to be done with her.

How can she resent him for hurting her when she never let him see how upset she really was? Yes, he's made mistakes but so has she.

"Can we talk?" He asks in a voice that sounds weathered beyond his years.

She nods wordlessly but doesn't let him go. She keeps her arms around him as they go inside her apartment and lock the door behind them. She lets him lead her over to the couch to sit, but she refuses to let him go too far. She curls herself around him. He doesn't seem to mind. He wraps himself around her just as tightly.

"How—what—did you drive all night?" Lucy asks as she arches back to meet his eyes.

"Only took me about ten minutes after you left to get my ass in gear. I told you I wasn't giving up on us. I was serious," he says as he runs a soft touch down the length of her damp cheek.

"I regretted leaving as soon as I laid down in my own bed," she admits. She covers his hand with hers and holds it against her cheek. "I should've stayed."

"It doesn't matter," he tells her with an earnest expression. "We're together now. We can fix this. We _have to_ fix this."

Not that she doesn't completely agree but the way he says it intrigues her. It's urgent and desperate and _resolute_. "Why? Why do we _have to_ fix this?"

"Because I love you and I'm not letting you go without a _damn good_ fight."

His blue eyes are fatally somber as he says those words. Solemn and determined. That was an _important_ sentence and she _feels it_. The words tickle up her spine and cause her breath to catch in her throat.

"You—you love me?" She asks as she feels more tears gathering. Will she ever stop crying? At least _these_ tears are joyful.

"More than anything or anyone else in my life, Lucy. I have never felt _this_ with anyone else other than you," he swears as he presses his forehead against her temple.

A watery laugh escapes her throat while she tugs his lips to hers for an exuberant kiss. When she pulls away she feels dizzy in the _best _way. "I love you too," she replies. "You have no idea how much."

He beams at her and then presses her back onto the sofa with consecutive kisses, each more drugging than the last. She feels positively euphoric. The kisses grow deeper and longer. They fill her heart to the point of bursting but she doesn't want him to stop. If her heart bursts then it bursts. She doesn't give a damn.

"Lucy—" he says as he tries to slow them down. "We should—" she interrupts him with another kiss. He grins against her lips but doesn't let her distract him. "Talk."

"Sex now," she demands as she starts dragging the bottom hem of his t-shirt upward. "Talk after."

"Are you sure that we should—"

"Wyatt, you just told me that you love me. I want you all over me and I want you _now_. I promise to tell you everything that's going on in my head after, but this is a big moment for us and I want to _enjoy it_," she says as she cards her fingers through his hair. "_Please_. I've missed you. I've missed _us_."

He looks as starved for _her_ as she feels for _him_. When he lets out a hushed growl and crushes her lips with his, she knows she's convinced him. He's worried about getting this right. She knows he is because she is too. But for now, she wants to put her hurt feelings aside and enjoy his weight on top of her and the solid strength of his arms around her. He's here. He loves her. He wants to fix things. That's enough for now. That's enough for a long time to come, if she's honest.

"Not on the couch," he mumbles against her lips. "Not here. Not rushed or hasty. Not this time."

She places her hands on his chest with a nod and pushes him to sit up. He allows her to get up and stand between his legs. She bends and kisses him again, slipping her hands under his shirt. She _finally_ pulls it off of him and tosses it over the back of the couch. His hands grip her hips, pressing into the denim covering them, while she peels off her own shirt. It joins his over the couch. The shirt has barely left her hands before Wyatt is hugging her around the waist.

His cheek is pressed against her stomach and she gets the impression that he's breathing her in. Her hands find his hair and gently massage his scalp and the back of his neck as he holds her.

He turns his head and begins to trail kisses from the bottom of her ribs to her navel. He alternates the press of his lips with his tongue and without realizing what she's doing she scrapes her nails across his back. That seems to drive him a little wild. A second later he stands as his hands slide below her hips and lift. She gasps in surprise but manages to wrap her arms around his shoulders at the same time her legs go around his waist.

As he walks them down the hall she rocks once against him. The friction of denim against denim feels _sinful_. She does it again and this time Wyatt groans and stumbles back into the wall. Instinctually, he moves with her.

"_Lucy," _he says in a warning tone. "We are making it to the bed. Stop trying to distract me."

Her lips land on his cheek as she presses herself closer and she laughs against his skin. "I don't know what this sudden obsession with beds is about, Soldier. I seem to recall being pressed into a wall once before."

The noise he makes in response is almost pathetic. "God, you are not making this easy for me."

"Why would I do that?" She asks.

He manages to right himself again and stay focused on his objective despite her many attempts to distract him. She almost succeeds but not even that sensitive spot just below his ear could distract him this time. He tosses her onto the bed and she lets out a shocked laugh as he releases her. He's quicker getting his jeans and boxers off than she's ever seen him. Instead of rushing to get herself undressed, she leans back on her elbows and watches him. He gives her a playfully scolding glance when he realizes she still has her bra and jeans on.

"You know, you keep impeding my progress. One would almost think this _wasn't_ your idea," he says as he wraps his hands around her ankles and drags her to the edge of the bed.

"Just enjoying the view," she says as she tries to squirm out of his hold. "I'm told it's good to do that every now and then."

He chuckles and then leans over her. Having his nakedness so close is doing dangerous things to her heart rate. "It's a little unfair that _my _view is so obstructed, don't you think?"

His hands skim along her bare waist and then over her stomach. He briefly presses them against the cups of her cotton bra before sliding them backward and unhooking the clasp in the middle of her back. She feels the support of the garment fall away and then his calluses are pushing the straps off of her shoulders. She has no idea what happens to it after that and she can't say she really cares because as soon as her bra is gone his tongue is teasing one nipple while his hand teases the other. Her senses are too full of _him_ to give a shit about a thirty dollar bra.

She knows they did this just last weekend but it was so different. They were preoccupied and...distant. It was good, don't get her wrong, but it wasn't _this_. It didn't crackle with intensity. She hadn't felt like he was connected to her in every way possible. The intimacy was lost.

But here and now, knowing he loves her, knowing he has no plans to leave her, knowing they are on a completely level playing field, their emotional connection is back in full force. And is she crazy or is it _stronger_ than before?

His hand strays from her breast and undoes the fly of her jeans. She arches with a loud cry as his fingers suddenly dive into her underwear. He's massaging her and then thrusting a finger inside of her. Her heat is trapped in the denim and lace, pushing her closer to the edge faster than she ever thought possible. She tries to writhe away from him to keep from peaking too fast, but he's having none of it. One firm arm is locked around her waist, holding her in place.

Jesus, her jeans are still _fucking_ on. She can't be climaxing already. They've barely started!

"Oh, God, _Wyatt_," she gasps.

His tongue swirls her pebbled nipple again causing her vision to darken around the edges and her toes to curl. Two fingers thrust inside of her at once without warning and that's the end of her. She tenses around his fingers and lets out a breathy shout. Her hands fist in his hair as she sees stars. It's as if the stars are falling to meet her. Raining down all over her and licking heat everywhere they touch.

When she comes back to Earth, Wyatt's tenderly working her jeans and underwear down and off. His hands carefully tug the fabric away. It couldn't have been easy considering every where south of her navel is slick with sweat and _need_.

He nudges her knees apart and then settles on top of her, making sure to put most of his weight on his arms.

"Do you have anything?" He asks.

They used the last of her condom stash last weekend and with the stress of the week she never went out and bought more. Their plan was to be at his place this weekend so he said he would take care of it. But they're not at his place. The plan changed rather impulsively.

She should feel crestfallen, but…

She doesn't care. It surprises her. She's careful. She's always careful. Doubly careful, considering she's on the pill in addition to the condoms. No one she's ever been with has trumped her need to be careful.

But no one else is Wyatt Logan.

"I don't but...I'm on the pill."

He swallows thickly and meets her eyes with astonishment. "Lucy, are you _sure_? _Really_ sure?"

She smiles serenely, amazed by her own sense of calm, and uses a hand under his chin to pull his lips down to hers. It's intrusive but reverent. Her tongue slides against his with intent. When they break apart they're both breathing heavily.

"I'm sure about _you_, Wyatt. More certain than I've ever been. I want this," she tells him as she wraps her arms around him and lifts her hips to his. "I want you. _Just_ you."

His lips capture hers hungrily upon that admission. It's the most wanton and passionate kiss they've ever shared. He's pouring everything he has into it. As the kiss winds down, she feels him lining up against her heated center. Not a single layer between them. They're bare. _Completely _bare_._

He pushes in as slowly as one would slip into a hot bath.

The feeling is _exquisite._

"_Fuck,"_ Wyatt says as he presses his face into the curve of her neck. "This is going to be quicker than I want. Jesus, Luce, you're a perfect fit. I thought that before, but now..._Christ_. Don't move. Don't you dare move."

She nods and blinks back tears. She has no words for how he feels inside of her. She thought she knew. This isn't their first time, but this _is_ different. It somehow feels like a brand new beginning. Or maybe just a new chapter? The worst is behind them. They have work to do, she knows that, but when something is this rare and beautiful it must be built to last. If she ever doubts them again, she'll remember this moment. _This connection._

He pulls out and then slips back in and it's then that her tears fall because that felt _even better_ than holding him inside her. She didn't think that was possible.

"Luce?" He whispers as he meets her eyes in concern.

"Don't stop," she urges him as he brings a hand up to wipe her cheeks. "I promise I'm _wonderful_. Really. Please don't stop."

She reads understanding in his eyes as he moves again. He follows each thrust with a slow kiss - to her lips, her neck, the hollow of her throat. He whispers her name against her skin like a prayer. He's trying to go slow even though she knows he's close. Each snap of his hips is more erratic than the last. But despite how close he is, he never stops kissing her. He never stops whispering words of love and adoration. She has never felt exotic or beautiful. Never felt like a treasure. Never known what it would be like to be _worshipped_.

Not until now. Not until _Wyatt Logan._

His hand slides between them as his thrusts become harder, deeper, and faster. At the first sign of the coiling at her core she finds his eyes. She holds them, brown versus blue, as the world upends and sends them into the stratosphere at the exact same time. She's never climaxed with anyone before and, like everything else that's been new with him, she knows it could have only happened _with him._

Her tears have been steadily and silently falling from the minute he entered her and they don't stop once they've finished.

"I love you," Wyatt tells her as he places an open mouthed kiss to her bare shoulder.

"I love you too," she answers through an elated sob. "I'm sorry I'm such a blubbering mess."

When his eyes find hers again, she notices his gaze is misty and his laugh sounds thick as if he's a moment away from crying too. "You are _not_ a mess, Lucy. You're _incredible_. Radiant. Gorgeous. I've got a whole list of these in my head and I can assure you _mess_ is not on it."

She's not sure what to say to that. She's not sure what she _can_ say. So instead she goes for levity.

"Good call on the bed, by the way. Much better than the wall."

His booming laugh fills the room and soothes any lingering pain from their fight. "I'm glad I could convince you, ma'am."

He looks nothing short of besotted with her as she replies. "Oh, you convinced me. It was a _very thorough_ job. You should be proud."

His face turns introspective before he kisses a short trail across her jaw over to her ear. "This may sound strange," he prefaces. "And I know I saw you last weekend in very similar circumstances." He pauses and presses his cheek to her temple so that his lips hover over her ear. "But I missed you, Professor. You have no idea how much."

She gasps at his words. She had the same thought earlier. How did he know?

"That's where you're wrong," she tells him as her eyes water again. She holds him tighter and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I know _exactly_ how much because I missed you too. So much that I physically _hurt_, Wyatt."

"From now on, can you be honest with me and tell me when I hurt you? I promise to try and never hurt you again, but if I do...God, Lucy, I _want _to know. I _need_ to know. Don't hide it from me because you think it's what I want. That is _never_ what I want. There is no way for me to be happy if you're miserable."

He's practically begging against her ear and it sends a shiver down her spine.

"Yes," she says through fresh tears. "I can do that. It won't be easy and you'll need patience, but I _can._ I _will_. For you. And...can you...Wyatt, I don't need to know your entire life story right away but can you not hide it from me? Don't lock it away. I want to know everything about you. Your successes, your failures, your scars. All of it. All of _you_. It hurts every time you step outside to take a phone call or tell me nothing's wrong when you're clearly upset. I want to be a part of your life and I can't do that if you won't rely on me at least a little bit."

His emotions catch in his throat as he responds. "No more hiding," he agrees. "Not from you. I promise."

"Good, that's all I want," she says as she takes deep, deliberate breaths to keep from crying again. "That's all I've ever wanted."

"Then that's what I'll give you," he swears as he pulls away from her. He severs the connection between them and then moves off of her. His hands thread through hers as he pulls her up to sit. "Come on, babydoll," he says with a wink. "Let's get cleaned up."

"I'm not sure how much cleaning we'll do if we go in that bathroom _together_, sweetheart," she says with an amused arched brow.

"That's sort of what I'm counting on," he says as he stands and then pulls her into his chest. "I've had you on the bed, on a desk, against a wall," he says as he ticks off the places they've had sex on his fingers. "On a bathroom counter. I think it's high time we add _shower_ to that list, don't you?"

She blushes and laughs, contradicting her eye roll. "God, you're insatiable."

"I've got news for you, Preston," he says as he wags his eyebrows at her. "So are _you_."

She would deny it, except it's true. "Shut up and get in the shower, Logan."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," he says with a joking salute. "At your service."

God, does she ever love him.

She's never letting him go again. _Not ever._


	10. 9 Miss My Flight

**A/N:** I worked my butt off to finish chapter 14 last night so I could post today BECAUSE SKETCHINGWITCH POSTED ANOTHER PIECE OF ART BASED ON THIS FIC. She drew the elevator scene from chapter one, you guys! IT'S BEAUTIFUL! GO OVER TO TWITTER AND CHECK IT OUT IF YOU HAVEN'T! Omg. I love it so much.

Anywayyy, here's a nice mostly fluffy chapter as a THANK YOU TO FIONA OMG.

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

Chapter Nine: Miss My Flight

* * *

"Maybe I oversleep and miss my flight.

My alarm went off at 6:05,

But I never heard it,

Accidentally on purpose.

Maybe I'll lay with you,

Just like this,

And give you one more goodbye kiss.

Sneak those three little words in,

Accidentally on purpose."

-"Accidentally On Purpose" by The Shires

* * *

They sleep in until mid-morning. They're both exhausted from overwhelming emotions and..._exertion. _Once they've woken up and eaten breakfast, Lucy rolls her still unopened suitcase from her bedroom and smiles apologetically at him.

"We should take this back to your place," she declares.

"We don't have to," he says as he places his hands on her hips and meets her eyes. "I don't mind staying here."

"No," Lucy says decisively. "We had a plan, and I bailed. We should go back to the plan. I want to make up for running away."

His hand comes up and caresses her cheek, pulling her eyes to his. "There's nothing to make up for, Luce. We talked about it. We know what we need to do going forward. I don't want you stressing yourself out over making _anything_ up to me."

"I wouldn't be doing it for you," she says honestly. "I'd be doing it for me. I don't want to always push people away when they hurt me, and maybe it's silly but going back to your place would make me feel like I'm actually facing something. It's not a big action, but it _feels_ like it is."

"For the record," he says with a soft grin. "Not silly. I get it. And if that's what you want then we'll do it."

"I'll pay for your gas," she insists.

He rolls his eyes at her, but there's no real malice in the action. "No, you won't."

"Wyatt, you wouldn't have had to drive all the way out here if it wasn't for me in the first place—"

"I made the decision to come out here all on my own, Professor. You didn't force my hand. I did exactly what I wanted to do. You're _not_ paying for gas," he says firmly as he grabs his wallet and keys off of her kitchen counter.

He drops a kiss to the top of her head as he walks around her toward the front door. He opens it and waves her through expectantly. "After you, ma'am."

"This discussion isn't over," she tells him with a playful narrowed gaze.

"No discussion ever is with you," he says with a chuckle. "Why would this one be any different?"

Despite the bickering over gas, a road trip with Lucy Preston is _nice_. Her hand rests in his or on his thigh for the entire drive. He's surprised when, an hour into the trip, Lucy turns up the radio and bursts into song. Her voice is shockingly skilled. Not that he's an expert or anything. He can't carry a tune in a bucket, but she sounds just as good as Pat Benatar on the Eighties and Nineties station she insists on listening to. Occasionally, she leans across the console to swipe her fingers through his hair or kiss his cheek. The whole drive feels weirdly normal, as if they've done this several times before. He knows they haven't but then again this is _Lucy_ so he's no longer surprised when new things seem habitual with her.

Pulling onto his street gives him an uneasy sense of deja vu. He can tell Lucy feels it too. As his hands tighten on the steering wheel, one of her hands rubs a comforting circle on the back of his shoulder. It's a welcome reminder that they aren't where they were less than twenty four hours ago. They're _better._ Stronger.

He pulls all the way into his garage and turns off the car. They share a small smile as the garage door closes behind them.

"We're already further than we were last night," Lucy assures him with a smirk.

"So far, so good," he agrees with a nod.

His hand finds her shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. The wince that she tries to cover by clearing her throat is so subtle that he almost misses it. _Almost_.

His eyes narrow. "Lucy…"

If she's still harboring some kind of resentment and trying to hide it from him _already_ then—

"No, it's not what you think!" She cries. "I'm _honestly_ fine. It's just an old bruise."

She takes his hand, removes it, and then slides the shoulder of her shirt down, just enough, to expose the large faded bruise. "It barely hurts anymore."

"Wha—When did that happen?" He asks as he tries to tamp down his protective outrage.

She bites her bottom lip and then meets his eyes hesitantly. "Okay, first, before I tell you...it was an accident. _Not_ intentional. I want to make sure _you_ know that and you know that _I_ know that."

To his ears, it sounds like she's trying to convince him she _understands_ but he definitely does _not_ understand. What is she talking about?

His brow furrows in confusion. "Okay?"

"Do you remember last weekend?" She asks as she sucks in a nervous breath. "You—you woke up with a start. It was some sort of nightmare, I think."

He holds in a pained groan. "Yeah, I snapped at you afterward. God, I was such an ass to you that night. How did you put up with me?"

"Well, before that...you jumped out of bed and when you did you might have, just slightly…"

He has a feeling he's going to hate this. "Just say it."

"You shoved me away," she says on a rushed exhale. "Pushed me back into the headboard and the nightstand. You didn't realize what you were doing at the time, you just wanted out of the bed so don—"

"I shoved you?" He asks with horror. "Hard enough to bruise? Lucy, I—don't remember that. I remember standing beside the bed and seeing you looking up at me but I don't—_holy shit_." He turns in the driver's seat and cups either side of her face. He needs to address this _now_. He physically hurt Lucy? How could he do that? "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His thumbs rub across her cheeks and he feels his eyes prickle with moisture. "I hadn't had that dream in so long and it just felt so real…"

She covers his hands with her own and shakes her head against his white knuckle grip. "I _know_. Wyatt, I _know_ you didn't do it on purpose. It's okay. I was more worried about you. You looked lost and in pain. Believe me, I know you weren't yourself."

Her warm amber eyes land on his and the faith he finds in them nearly knocks him out. She trusts him not to hurt her. She has faith that he's as good as she is. But he's not. He's done things. Seen things. Would she still think that if she knew? That nightmare occasionally haunts him for a reason.

"Come inside," he says hoarsely. "I want to show you something."

He kisses her lips softly before he releases her face. He keeps his eyes on her as he gets her bag out of the trunk and then leads her into the house. For the time being he sets the bag down in his living room and steers her toward his home office. He never uses it. There's a desk and bookshelves but more often than not it's merely storage.

It's where he hides the things he doesn't want to remember. He motions for her to sit down at the empty desk before he turns to the shelf behind her and pulls down a solid, top-hinged folio from the very top of it. It's the size of a small iPad, but thinner, and a unique shade of blue. Inscribed in gold ink are the words "Medal of Honor - United States of America". He sets it down in front of her but can't bring himself to explain. Not right away.

Lucy gingerly lifts the top, and the springs do the rest of the work. The folio stiffly snaps open with a quiet smack against the desk. Inside sits a shiny medal on a blue ribbon, untouched since the day it was first placed around his neck. The glint of the gold star is set off by the black velvet behind it. He hears Lucy gasp. Of course, she knows what it is and what it _means_. Her fingers carefully trace the word "valor" above the star and then the shape of the eagle that holds the word in his talons.

She seems to be in awe of it, but he can barely look at it. He stands at attention behind her, as if waiting for a commanding officer he no longer has, until she turns with the folio clutched in her hands.

"Wyatt, I—_how?_" A bit of color has drained from her face and he knows she has no delusions about what sort of circumstances would have earned him that medal.

His posture deflates under her worried stare. He swallows thickly and then leans against the desk next to her. "My team was in Syria. We were pinned down. Surrounded on all sides, but we had important intel. It couldn't leave our hands. The enemy could _not_ have it. We didn't know what it was exactly, just that it was above our pay grade and classified. _One of us_ had to get it out."

The catch in his voice gives him away and causes Lucy's hand to find his knee.

"We drew straws. Me and my buddy, Zach. It came down to fucking _straws_. Guess who was the lucky bastard stuck with the intel?" Wyatt asks with a hollow laugh. "They stayed behind to keep the enemy distracted. They stayed behind so that I could get out." Her hand squeezes his knee to let him know she's still there. Still listening. "I left them, Lucy. I _left _them. None of them made it out. _Just me. _I...I abandoned my team. I left them there to die and the Army gave me a _goddamn medal_ for it."

The medal is set aside and the wheels of the desk chair squeak as Lucy stands. She positions herself between his knees and he feels her hands land on his arms and then drift slowly up his biceps, his neck, and then stop on his jawline. His vision is blurred by the tears in his eyes, but no amount of water can hide the compassion in Lucy's molten chocolate gaze.

He feels so much about Syria. Resentment, anger, guilt — at the core of it all is an unjust sense of _loss_. In one operation the guys he trusted with his life were wiped out and he was left _alone_. There's the additional factor of the _what-ifs_. He hates the what-ifs. They plague him in his quiet moments. What if he stayed and it somehow made all the difference? If his staying would have saved even _one_ man then it would have been worth it. He can never know the answer. It's an impossible question that he has to live with for the rest of his life.

But inexplicably Lucy's hands on his face quiet all of it. It's still there — just easier to manage.

"I'm sorry, Wyatt," she says with red eyes that match his own. "You're so brave. I know it doesn't feel that way. But you _are_."

He shakes his head in silent protest as the backs of her fingers trace over his cheeks. Tears land against her fingers and in the next moment she's wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head against her chest. She feels safe and solid, like an anchor in a stormy sea, and he can't stop his arms from winding around her in a constricting hold. Her soft lips press against his temple and stay there.

"That was the nightmare, wasn't it?" She asks in a whisper.

When he nods against her she holds him tighter and slips a hand into the short hair at the base of his neck.

"I love you, Wyatt Logan," she announces. The words sound assured and confident. They possess a fealty that he's never heard from any other person in his life. His already shallow breathing stalls briefly. "No matter where you are or who you're with, _I'm here_. I've got you. You're not alone."

How the hell did she know what he'd been thinking? His arms hold her steadfast as his appreciation and love for her intensifies. _This woman. _Why had he ever tried to shut her out? How had he doubted her? The answer came to him easily. He'd never really doubted her, but he'd kept himself from her because of his own selfish pride. Because of his fear of never being good enough. Because of his terror at the idea of being left behind. Because he could never live with himself if _his_ past hurt _her_.

And here she is defying every fear that resides in his heart and tearing down every wall he's ever built. He has no idea how to tell her this, so instead he stays perfectly still and lets her hold him. The comfort it offers him is mind blowing. The peace she instills in him by simply being there shatters and then rebuilds his entire world.

When it rebuilds, it rebuilds around _her_.

She becomes his center. His grounding wire.

_His everything._

He knows now that he will follow her wherever she goes, and if that means moving to Los Angeles then _so be it._ Because the safe space she's offering him so freely is everything he never knew he needed and he wants a chance to be that _for her_. He wants to offer her the same tranquility she's giving him now. He will do everything in his power to make that happen.

She deserves nothing less.

* * *

They order pizza because by the time they leave Wyatt's office it's too late for anything else to be delivered. But it goes cold in lieu of other _activities_. After all the emotions involved in his recollection of Syria, Lucy feels the need to add action to her words and _prove to him_ that he isn't alone in every sense of the phrase.

But, after a couple of rounds, their stomachs are grumbling and there is no way to put off eating any more. While she is cleaning herself up and filching one of Wyatt's shirts he sneaks downstairs and reheats their pizza. When she comes out of his bathroom she finds him laying across the bed with a cheap plastic serving platter full of pizza. _Still naked_.

She laughs and crawls onto the bed next to him. Pizza with naked Wyatt is something she wants every day for the rest of her life. But how to make it happen?

Mason Industries is Wyatt's family and she hates to ask him to leave it, but how can she move _here_? Her mother is here and Jonas is here. The idea alone of running into them fills her chest with panic.

She catches him openly admiring her. Her heartbeat skitters wildly at the pure adoration in his bright blue eyes. The difference from just a few hours ago is remarkable. For now, the guilt and anguish are gone and another piece of the puzzle slides into place. At the thought of the puzzle that is Wyatt Logan, she realizes there's something else about last weekend that she hasn't told him. And she hates to bring it up but…

She also doesn't want to chicken out of _ever_ telling him.

He must see her emotions shift in her eyes because he puts down his pizza and then reaches out to the floor for his boxers. Clearly, a serious discussion means clothes.

He clearly reads that on her face too because he winks at her as he puts them on. "No distractions from whatever it is you're about to tell me."

Once the boxers are gone and the pizza is moved to his bedside table he turns a curious gaze on her.

"What's on your mind, ma'am?"

"I...accidentally saw a text message last weekend from Jess," she says as she bites her bottom lip nervously. "I think it was about your dad?"

"Probably," he mutters darkly. "He was calling nonstop last weekend. When I didn't pick up my cell, he started calling Jess's house — which used to be _our_ house. She called to give me a heads up and to see if I could get him to back off."

"Did you?" Lucy asks worriedly.

"Yeah. Give him what he wants and he goes away for a while," Wyatt says with a shrug. But she can tell he doesn't feel that shrug. It's a placeholder for whatever action he'd prefer to do but can't.

"What does he typically want?" She _thinks_ she knows the answer. But she wants to be sure.

"Money," Wyatt states with a huff. "He blows it on booze and gambling. But it keeps him out of my hair, so…**.**"

"You give in rather than start something," Lucy finishes with a nod. "I get that. But Wyatt...you're a self sufficient adult. What is he going to do if you say no? Nothing you have now belongs to him or involves him in any way. _You _built this life. Without his help. And from just the little I know, I can tell, you owe him _nothing_. Walking away from my mother was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but my life is _mine_. So, I took it back. It's not easy but...you can do that. You're braver than me. If I can do that then _you_ can."

"It's stupid," he says quietly as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest. "But I keep hoping...that someday he might—"

"Change?" Lucy asks knowingly.

"Yeah," he admits with a hooded shameful eyes.

"That's not stupid."

"It _feels_ stupid."

"It's not stupid, it's hopeful," she amends as she places a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I am a firm believer that people _can_ change. But only if _they_ want to. And now I know, as a result of a lesson I very recently learned with _my_ mother, if they do they'll come to _you_ and they won't want anything in return. My mother, like your father, always wants something. It's not money. She doesn't need that. But it's _always_ something. I hate the idea of running into her because of it. She knows how to hurt me and it takes every scrap of courage I have to tell her no."

"You always tell me you're not brave," he says with a conflicted sigh as he lets his forehead rest on hers. "But you're wrong. Maybe you're not a soldier. But that doesn't mean you're not brave. That doesn't mean you _can't_ fight. You _are_ brave. You _are_ a fighter. You wouldn't have left San Francisco if you weren't."

She rolls her eyes and scoffs bitterly. "That wasn't bravery. That was cowardice."

"Is that what your mother told you?" He asks with a knowing critical glance.

She flinches at the truth in his question. "Yes," she replies weakly.

"Getting away from a life that was toxic for you was _not_ cowardly. Cowardice would have been continuing on as you were _knowing_ it was bad for you. You did something, Luce. You took action. _You fought back_. Picking up your whole life and making changes _for yourself_ was courageous. You _are_ brave. You just have to _believe_ that for yourself."

"Easier said than done," she mumbles under her breath.

"You can do it," he says reassuringly. "You can do _anything_."

"I think you have too much faith in me, soldier."

"Not possible," he counters with honest eyes and a tender kiss to her forehead. "I don't think I could ever put _too much_ faith or trust in you."

Disbelieving tears gather in the corners of her eyes. That might be the most _wonderful_ thing anyone has ever said to her. For the first time in her life, his words leaving her feeling..._deserving_.

She feels like she might be—no, she feels like she _is_—_enough_. He's filled her up with trust and love and support. So much so that in _this moment_ she feels like she's _worthy_ of everything she has.

She feels valuable, useful, _indispensable. _She knows she could have felt this on her own. But it would have taken her so much longer to arrive there _without_ him.

He makes her better. He believes she can do anything and so she _feels_ like she can do anything.

Maybe...maybe with him by her side running into her mother wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she could come home.

If she's honest, Los Angeles has never felt like home. It's a place to exist, but it's never felt like _hers_. She misses Palo Alto. She misses the comfort and familiarity of it, and being with Wyatt is worth the risk of running into her past. Who cares about the past when _he's_ her future?

She's not ready to say any of this out loud, though. She doesn't want to get his hopes up. So, she keeps it to herself to think more on later. For now, she's enjoying casually lounging around in his arms in nothing more than his borrowed shirt. Naked Wyatt is fun, yes, but cuddly Wyatt might be her favorite. He enjoys simply holding her as much as she enjoys being held. They're both house cats by nature.

They don't mind going out but they would much rather stay in. Which is exactly what they do.

Sunday is spent just as lazily as Saturday night. It's lovely not having to put on pants or step outside. They can hide in their bubble and selfishly keep each other all to themselves. They talk more than they've ever talked.

She learns that his father forced him to work on cars as a child and the image of him desperately trying to repair an engine with the tiny hands of a child puts a permanent crack in her heart. He tells her about his love of NASCAR and how it allowed him to love cars despite his father's cruelty. He even tells her about his time as a teenage drug runner. She's shocked, but also not surprised. It doesn't make sense to be both of those things at once, but she is. It just somehow seems so very typically Wyatt Logan. He confesses that his grandfather slapped the sense into him and demanded that Wyatt come and live with him during his last few years of high school. But not _before_ he drove his father's old Chevy into a lake.

Once upon a time he was a troubled, lost kid who needed someone to love him. He found that in his grandfather and Jessica. Maybe he and Jessica weren't meant to be but Lucy can see clearly how his ex-wife helped him become the man he is today. Honorable, decent, _truly good_ if not a bit hotheaded. She's grateful for that.

_Grateful for him_ and his capacity for growth. He genuinely wants to be the best man that he can be. The best friend, the best soldier, the best employee, and the best _boyfriend_. Yes, he actually said that to her. He called himself her boyfriend.

While wearing the dorkiest, goofiest smile and probably looking as lovesick as she feels.

He has a past. He's made mistakes, some very recently. But he always learns from them. He rarely repeats them.

She loves him all the more for it.

In turn, she tells him about her mother and the amount of papers she had to rewrite at the last minute and all the second place trophies she had to throw away. She tells him that her mother was never satisfied with her class standing when she graduated from UCLA. Third simply wasn't as impressive as _first_. Without any hesitance she reveals the ways Jonas manipulated her and how her mother made excuses for him. Every vulnerable thought or fear she's ever had seems to pour out of her.

She's not afraid he'll think less of her for staying with someone who was obviously cheating on her. She's not afraid he'll judge her for letting her mother dictate her path. He doesn't judge her. He doesn't pity her. He listens and he sympathizes and offers encouragement where he can.

It's more than she could have ever hoped for in a partner.

_He's _more than she could have ever hoped for.

As the weekend comes to a close, she regretfully books a flight for nine on Monday morning. Wyatt can drop her off and still make it into the office on time that way. It seems like a solid plan. After all, a lot has happened this weekend and they both have things to think about, but…**.**

She can honestly say that leaving is the _last thing_ she wants right now. In fact, she's so bothered by the idea of going back to Los Angeles that she barely sleeps a wink.

She nestles into Wyatt. It's perfectly cozy, but sleep proves slippery. She dozes in and out of a half sleep due to her mind being preoccupied by the thought of a week without him. Now that she knows he loves her, she doesn't want to let him go - even temporarily. Finally, at five that morning she gives up and simply watches him sleep.

He is not having the same problem she is. He is resting fitfully. He puffs out perfect little breaths that barely move the hairs falling across his forehead. His lashes are so long that it's unfair. How can a man have lashes that full with the perfect natural curl? Women everywhere would kill for his lashes, including herself. She reaches out a hand and softly runs it along the stubble on his cheeks.

He's so beautiful and somehow he's _hers. _She still has a hard time believing this is all real. He leans into her touch and tucks her further into his chest, the way a child would snuggle a teddy bear. She bites down on her lip to keep a fond chuckle at bay. He may have a gruff exterior, but this soldier is all fluff on the inside. How did she get so lucky?

She lets out a muted wishful sigh. She hates that they live so far apart. It isn't fair. The weekends are never enough time. Especially this weekend. She's keenly aware of the time they lost when she flew back home. All in all, it couldn't have been more than 8 hours but it still made the weekend that much shorter.

And what is she going back to exactly? She only goes to her office to write. She has no appointments to keep. The semester doesn't start for another three weeks. She'll have to start working on lesson plans soon, but she has at least one more week before that stress begins to build. So, really that just leaves her empty apartment and her extremely social sister, who's never needed Lucy around to remain entertained. Why is she in such a rush to return to Los Angeles, again? Her laptop is here. It could be just as easy to write at Wyatt's place as it is her office. Writing is a mobile activity. She can do it _anywhere._

So, where does that leave her?

With no reason to leave Wyatt, at least not this week.

Decision made, she manages to reach over Wyatt for her phone. (He only has one nightstand and it's on his side of the bed. It's irksome but she hasn't yet mentioned that to him.) She turns the phone away from him so as not to disturb him with the light and opens up her airline's app. She bites her bottom lip to keep from letting out a triumphant cheer when the "Change" option is lit up next to her flight. She simply has to pay the fare difference. God bless modern technology.

She changes her flight from this Monday to next and then changes her alarm. Wyatt doesn't have to be in the office until 9:30. Now that he doesn't have to shuttle her to the airport he can sleep later.

And as far as he'll ever know, she overslept her alarm, causing her to miss her flight.

Accidentally (read: on purpose.)

Oops?

It really is amazing how much easier it is to sleep now that she's decided to stay.

They have a whole week to look forward to and she _cannot_ wait.

* * *

Soft sunlight hits Wyatt's face from the window next to the bed and causes him to rouse from a deep sleep. He won't lie. It's the most restful sleep he's had in _years_, and probably all because of his very winsome companion.

The same one whose face is pressed into his neck and whose hand rests over his heart. He wonders if she can feel his heart rate increase in her sleep because that's what it's doing. She's in one of his t-shirts, with the threadbare collar loosely slipping off her shoulder, and nothing else. It would be all too easy to roll her underneath him and give her a truly _exceptional_ morning greeting.

But he resists the urge as he remembers, with a heart aching lurch, exactly what day it is.

He's never hated Monday more than he does right now. Today, she goes back to Los Angeles and when she does she'll be taking with her every piece of his battered heart. It's worth very little to the general population but for some indiscernible reason it means the world to _her_. How the fuck did he get so lucky?

The curtains move, from the barest breeze of his air conditioning and he blinks against the sunlight again. That's when he realizes something is _off._

Lucy set her alarm for six. There is no way the sun would be _this bright _at six in the morning.

_Shit_.

He turns his head to glance at his alarm clock and can't catch the curse this time. They have 45 minutes until Lucy's flight is scheduled to take off. Her suitcase isn't even packed. There is _no way_ they are making it to the airport in time.

As if sensing his panic, the alarm on Lucy's phone wails obnoxiously. He frantically cuts if off, nearly knocking her phone off the nightstand in the process. _Smooth, Wyatt._

She stirs and hums contentedly against him. There is no preventing the upward turn of his lips. After the rocky start to the weekend, hearing her sound _content_ eases any remaining fears.

"Morning," she mumbles.

"I've got bad news," he tells her with a wince.

Though, maybe not _so_ bad. Considering it means he gets to keep her a little longer. Silver lining, right?

Her eyes barely open but he knows she's listening.

"You're gonna miss your flight."

The smirk she flashes him is drowsy but still mischievous as she replies with absolutely zero remorse. "Oops. I must've hit snooze one too many times. Oh well."

His squints down at her suspiciously. "Oh, well?" He asks. "That's it?"

She hides her face against his shoulder, but he can feel her grin pressed into his skin. "Guess I'll just have to stay a little longer. As in, maybe, the whole week."

He grins to match her and catches on immediately. She's trying to be sneaky. Waking up this late is no accident. Not with Lucy.

Not with this woman who _always_ has a plan. She even has strategies for quick grocery store trips. She'll remind him before they get out of the car in a way that makes him feel like he should dig out his tactical gear.

No way she hits snooze more than once on _any_ alarm. Ever.

"A whole week, huh?" He asks with a knowing half smirk. "I guess there's no other flight to catch between now and then? That was the _only _flight back to L.A. today?"

"Probably," she replies as her hand reaches up to scrub along his stubble. "Seems like I'm stuck with you for a while."

He chuckles quietly and runs a light touch up the curve of her spine. He marvels at the way it makes her entire body shudder before he speaks. "Okay, as much fun as this is, Professor, can we be serious?"

"I am serious," she answers as she turns her head to rest her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes are full of whiskey tinted sincerity. "I mean, what would you say if I..._stayed_? At least for this week?"

"You really want to stay?" He asks with a soft hopeful smile.

She nods and kisses his shoulder. "I _really_ do. I have nothing to rush back to yet and in a few weeks that may not be the case. I feel like I should enjoy spending time with you while I still have a surplus of it. Besides, after this weekend I'm just not ready for a day without you yet. I don't want to say goodbye again."

"I'm not ready to say goodbye yet either," he agrees with a relieved exhale. "Nothing would make me happier than to have you sharing this house with me for a week. _Nothing_. So if that's what you want then you have my _enthusiastic_ support."

"Good, cause about two hours ago I changed my flight to next Monday instead," she tells him with a bright laugh. "If you said no I would have camped out here anyway."

He laughs with her and shakes his head. "I knew it! So much for 'oops', you liar. You let me think we overslept!"

"I maintain that the oversleeping was done accidentally."

He rolls his eyes and pokes her naked side. "On purpose."

"Fine, we'll compromise," she says sagely. "Accidentally on purpose. Just like everything else with us."

He quirks a brow at her and snickers. "Right. Sure thing, ma'am. Would you like me to _accidentally on purpose_ make you breakfast before I have to get ready for work?"

"If by breakfast you mean pancakes, then yes," Lucy says as she reaches over him for her phone. She steals a quick kiss as a thank you before sitting up and studying her notifications.

"Coming right up," he says as he stands and throws on a thin t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

He pauses at the door to watch her while she's wrapped in his sheets and scrolling through her phone. She looks like she belongs there — in his bed, his house, his _heart_. She belongs anywhere he is.

He gets to work on breakfast not long after that. As he's pouring more batter into the skillet, Lucy wanders in with the phone pressed to her ear. She sits at his kitchen table with laughing eyes and a shake of her head.

"Yes, you can drive my car, but no you can't shuttle around your 'paints and pints' class in the Volvo. I know your friends, Amy. I'll end up with wine and paint stains all over the seats." She rolls her eyes and tucks one long bare leg underneath her. He's so distracted by it that he almost forgets to flip the pancakes."Then buy your own car, you have the money. Well, I wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't a total spoiled brat. Uh huh. Okay." She stops suddenly and Wyatt feels her eyes watching him. "I'm not sure yet," she says.

When he turns to look at her he sees her cheeks bloom with color and her eyes widen.

"No, I am not telling him that! Because that's not exactly appropriate coming from me. No, I'm not handing him the phone. He's making breakfast. Leave him alone. Yeah, that's right. I'm a total stick in the mud because I won't let you embarrass me in front of my—" She cuts off her sentence and then meets his eyes with a small shy smile. "My _boyfriend._"

That bashful look she just gave him and the way she bit her lip to keep from grinning? Yeah, he likes that. He likes that a _lot_. He also likes the affection he saw in her eyes as the word "boyfriend" left her lips.

"Yes, I'll call you later," she promises. "Love you too, Ames."

"So," he asks with a knowing grin. "How's Amy?"

"Still a hot mess and occasionally mortifying," Lucy admits with a nervous chuckle.

"So, still essentially _Amy_?" He asks with a smirk as he plates their two stacks of pancakes and sets them on the table.

"Always essentially _Amy_," Lucy answers.

His phone vibrates in his sweatpants pocket, indicating a text, and he checks it as he opens the pantry for the syrup. His eyebrows shoot up as he reads Amy's name on his lock screen.

"_Lock her down, Wyatt, because you will never meet another person as good and loving as she is. Trust me on this. Also, important note, break her heart and I will castrate you. Have a great day!"_

"Uh," he says with a snorting laugh. "That embarrassing thing you told her you couldn't say?"

"Yeah?" Lucy asks as she gets up from the table and heads for his fridge.

"I'm pretty sure she just texted it to me."

Lucy halts with the butter dish in her hand and the fridge door wide open. "Oh, God. I'm _so_ sorry."

He's still laughing as he brings the syrup to the table. "Honestly, I'm surprised she hasn't texted me this before now." He takes the butter dish from Lucy's hand and then pulls her away from the fridge. He guides her to sit back down, kissing the top of her head before he closes the refrigerator door. "And she's definitely not wrong. On all counts."

Lucy's blushing again as he sits down across from her. "Oh, well. _Okay then_."

He's taken maybe one bite of his pancakes when his phone rings from where it sits in between them. Jess's number and picture fill the screen and Wyatt can _feel_ Lucy tense on the other side of the table. It's as if all movement _stops._

He's tempted to decline the call. Not because he doesn't want Lucy to hear it but because he doesn't want to waste his time with her talking to someone else. He's not going to do that, though. He can tell this is a critical moment. Lucy needs to know he _listens_. Especially, to _her_.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, Jess, what do you need?"

Lucy's shoulders relax and he hears her expel a tense breath.

He reaches across the table and takes her hand in his, threading their fingers together and squeezing her hand.

"Do you remember where we put the old hammock? Is it in your storage locker or mine?"

"I honestly have no idea," Wyatt replies with a scoff. "I don't even remember owning a hammock."

"Must be in mine then," Jess says thoughtfully before breezing past it. "Also, Emma's not coming into the office today."

Wyatt's eyes widen. Emma never misses a day at the office. "Oh? Anything wrong?"

"No," Jess says tersely. It sounds like she's speaking through a tense jaw. "She's just been in some sort of _snit_ the last few days so I'm not letting her leave the house until she gets some goddamn sleep."

There's distant yelling in the background. Far enough away to be muffled but close enough to make out every word. ("_Fuck you, I'm not tired.")_

"I swear sometimes it's like living with a toddler. She's a picky eater who never sleeps only instead of throwing a tantrum she curses and flips me off."

Wyatt laughs and shakes his head. His stomach rumbles so he sets the phone down and puts it on speaker, withdrawing his hand from Lucy's. The pancakes are going to go cold if he doesn't start on them soon.

"Good luck with that," Wyatt says with a snort.

"Thanks," Jessica replies drolly. "Anyway, all that to say, I know you have an appointment with her to go over the new prototype or whatever, but she won't be making it. Which means, you have more time to say goodbye to the lovely Lucy. If you need it."

Lucy looks surprised at the mention of her name and by the fact that he switched to speakerphone. His eyes meet hers with a sly smirk. "Actually, she's still here, and will be all week."

"Seriously?" Jess asks in excitement. "Oh! You should bring her to Wednesday Poker! Does she play poker?"

"I don't know, Luce," Wyatt says with a pointed glance. "Do you play poker?"

"...you put me on speaker, didn't you?"

"You called during breakfast and I'm starving," he explains with a roll of his eyes before fixing Lucy with another meaningful look. "So, poker?"

She fumbles to speak, shocked to be pulled into the conversation.

"I—I play," she answers. "Not well, but I do play."

"None of us are particularly good at it," Jess assures her. "You won't be alone."

"Speak for yourself," Wyatt says with a cocky grin. "I regularly wipe the floor with all of you."

"Yes, and like the horrible braggart you are, you make sure we know it. You're such a good sport, Wy," Jess says sarcastically. "_Anyway_, it's at our house this week so, as a warning to you Lucy, bring a sweater. My girlfriend keeps this place at subzero temperatures."

Emma's distant voice floats over the line again. "Sub zero means _below_ zero. The thermostat doesn't even go that fucking low, Jess."

"If it did you'd keep it there and give me hella awful frostbite," Jess retorts. "And stop being so literal. I was _joking_." There's a beat and then. "Someone tell me how I ended up dating a scientist?"

"Engineer," Wyatt corrects habitually.

"Same thing."

"Not really, no," Emma replies. She sounds closer now. "I'm staying home from work because of you, the least you can do is get off the phone and keep me company."

"Oh, so you're finally not pissed at me?" Jess asks.

Emma huffs before she answers. "I can be pissed at you and still want to make out with you. The two aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, they actually work really well together or have you forgotten about Cancun?"

Emma's tone softens to the point of practically purring causing Wyatt and Lucy to exchange wide eyed glances.

"Maybe we should let you go," Lucy says before biting back an amused grin. "You sound busy."

"Or like you're about to be," Wyatt says as he clears his throat with a smirk.

"I...um," Jess audibly gulps but then seems to find her words again. "Poker, Wednesday, our place. Bring a sweater. Bye!"

The call abruptly ends sending Lucy and himself into a fit of laughter.

"Oh my god," Lucy says through another peel of laughter. "What did we just overhear?"

"I'm pretty sure that was foreplay," Wyatt says with an awkward grimace.

Her laughter slowly fades away and her eyes meet his with heartfelt gratitude. "You didn't have to do that, you know? Put the call on speaker?"

"I know," he informs her with a nod. "But I wanted to. There's nothing that Jess and I talk about that you can't hear, Lucy. Not anymore. I trust you." He reaches for her hand again. "I promised you no more hiding _therefore_ no more hiding. I heard you before. I'm not making the same mistakes twice." He squeezes her hand and a self deprecating smile overtakes his face. "Though, I can't promise I won't make new ones."

"If you do," Lucy says, clutching his hand tighter. "I'll be sure to tell you from here on out. _No more_ keeping it to myself."

He brings the back of her hand to his lips before giving her a reassuring nod. "Glad to hear that, ma'am, because there's nothing that goes on in your beautiful big brain that I don't want to know about."

"Can I just say, that I really like that you chose the phrase 'beautiful big brain' instead of 'pretty little head'? Based on that alone, I can tell you're a real winner, Wyatt Logan."

"Hopefully you still think that at the end of the week," he replies with a bashful blush and a sardonic smirk.

"I will," Lucy says with certainty. "I have no doubt."


	11. 10 The Bones

**A/N: **Sorry it's taken me longer than usual to post! I've had less time to write this week since I've been house and pet sitting, but I'm done with that now so I'm hoping to have time to focus on this fic next week.

Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Chapter Ten: The Bones

* * *

"We're in the homestretch of the hard times.

We took a hard left, but we're alright.

Yeah, life sure can try to put love through it,

But we built this right so nothing's ever gonna move it.

When the bones are good,

The rest don't matter.

Yeah, the paint could peel,

The glass could shatter.

Let it break 'cause you and I remain the same.

When there ain't a crack in the foundation,

Baby, I know any storm we're facing,

Will blow right over while we stay put.

The house don't fall when the bones are good."

-"The Bones" by Maren Morris

* * *

Lucy spends Monday working on her book. She finds a flawless cozy spot in Wyatt's office. He has a window with a bench seat. She sits there with her legs outstretched, laptop on her thighs, and writes in the warm sunshine. It's perfection.

She writes all day. Not even a single e-mail from UCLA or her fellow faculty members interrupts her. It's blissfully quiet. Wyatt comes home and they have dinner. He surprises her by cooking. When she gets home after a day of classes and appointments, she never feels like making herself dinner. The gesture after he's had a long day himself only increases the fondness growing in her heart.

He tells her about his day and then, when they've finished eating, Wyatt asks if he can see her book. She's startled but flattered. She nervously hands over the laptop and preoccupies herself with her glass of wine while he reads.

She normally only shows her editor her books prior to submitting them. She's never been asked to share with anyone before. Well, except her mother but that felt like _work_. Her mother was always an unofficial editor. Lucy hated it. All she really wanted was for her mother to be as excited as she was, and she never got that. Now she knows she never will. It also means she's probably more anxious than she ought to be about showing Wyatt.

She channel surfs while she waits and stops on a new episode of _The Bachelorette_. Wyatt stops reading just long enough to acknowledge the program and roll his eyes with an affectionate grin.

"Don't judge me," Lucy says laughingly as she nudges his shoulder with hers.

"I would never," he replies with a smirk. "Not _you_. The contestants on the other hand? Definitely judging _them_."

She chuckles and finally lets herself relax on the couch next to him. He seems to be enjoying it so far. His eyes have hardly left the computer screen. And so what if he doesn't like it? It's _her_ book. It only matters if she and her editor and her publisher like it.

So, if Wyatt doesn't appreciate Judith Campbell then he can just—

"Lucy, this is...this is fantastic," Wyatt tells her as his eyes finish absorbing the last few words on the screen.

_Oh_, okay, well he can _just_ kiss her now.

She blushes and ducks her head before responding. "You _really _think so? You're not just saying that because you want to sleep with me later?"

He barks out a short laugh and then sets the laptop on his coffee table. "I don't do false flattery, Luce. Though, I _do_ want to sleep with you later." He wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her into his side. "Your book, even unfinished, is fascinating. I have never heard of this woman before and now I can't wait for you to finish this book."

"Thank you," she replies meekly. "My publisher is interested in doing a series. It was actually Jiya asking about Hedy Lamarr that sparked the idea. There are so many forgotten women who were involved in key moments of our history. I think it's time we talked about them."

"You'll have to tell me more about these forgotten women sometime," he encourages. "Or maybe I'll just wait till I can read your books."

After that comment, it really shouldn't be a surprise to him when she puts her wine glass down and yanks his lips to hers.

But somehow, it is. He makes a muffled stunned noise against her lips and tenses. The tension is brief and a second later he jolts into action, hauling her into his lap. He plunders her mouth enthusiastically until he's pushing her back onto the couch and settling his weight on top of her.

He pulls back with a confident grin just as she wraps her legs around his waist. "I take it that was the _right _thing to say?"

She smiles at him and runs her fingers through his hair. "There is no right or wrong answer when it comes to an opinion, Wyatt. Just an _honest_ one. That's what's _most_ important to me."

"I'll keep that in mind," he says as he studies her closely with a contemplative expression. He kisses her again, softer this time, and tenderly brushes her hair off of her shoulders. "I liked having you here when I got home tonight."

He winces after he says it, shaking his head slightly. She catches his apprehensive glance just before he begins to ramble. He sounds a bit panicked. "That sounded better in my head. I don't mean that you couldn't have been anywhere else or that I _expected_ you to be waiting on me or anything. I just mean—"

She puts one of her hands over his mouth to stop his talking as a bubbly laugh escapes her. "I know what you meant, and I liked _being here_ when you got home tonight. It was nice. _Normal_. We haven't had a lot of that."

"Exactly," he agrees with a sigh of relief. "This whole thing has been a bit of a wonderful whirlwind. Tonight feels different." He pauses like that's not the word he really wants to use and then tries again. "_Significant_ for us. If that makes any sense."

"Everything since you showed up at my door early Saturday morning has felt different for me," she admits as she caresses his stubbled cheeks and then pulls his forehead to hers. "This is starting to feel, I don't know..._stable._"

He nods, bumping her forehead gently. "That's what I want with you, you know? I want us to build something strong — _reliable_."

"I want that too," she agrees. "And I'm confident that we can do that, Wyatt. Together. I can work on telling you how I feel and not _just_ when my feelings are hurt. I need to share all of it. The good and the bad."

"Good," he says as he lifts some of his weight off of her while they talk. "I want to know, Luce. I want to know what you think and what you feel and what you _want._ If you have questions about my past and my life then ask them. I'll answer any of them. I promise you, there is nothing I won't tell you. _For you_, I'm an open book."

It's safe to say she's going to have no idea what happens on _The Bachelorette _if anyone asks. She's a little too preoccupied with him and his truthful soul searing stare to pay attention. (Oh, well, there's always Hulu.) Also, uncharacteristic for her, her wine sits untouched for the rest of the night. It's hard to drink wine with a former Delta Force soldier attached to your lips. Not that she's complaining.

They don't make it upstairs. They end the night naked and curled together on his couch, _Jimmy Kimmel _blaring from the television they neglected to turn off. When it's finally time to clean up the kitchen and head to bed, Lucy starts to reach for her discarded jeans but Wyatt beats her to it.

He pulls her to sit up next to him and lovingly slides his button up around her shoulders, securing each button with great care. She's unsure why the action touches her so much, but by the time he's done there are tears gathered in her lashes. He kisses her temple before he slips on his boxers and walks off toward the kitchen.

She remains sitting, in a daze for several seconds, and listens to him putting away their leftover food. How does he make something small seem so substantial? All he did was help her button a shirt but it felt like much more than that. Maybe Wyatt isn't instinctually a very verbal man, but he _speaks_ in other ways. She's just beginning to understand how figuratively loud he can be while never saying a word and it shifts her entire perspective on the events that led to their blow up on Friday night.

He didn't say the words until Saturday, but looking back, he's told her he loved her in a great many ways. Even the things she interpreted as secretive, weren't actually secretive. Yes, a part of the reason was selfish. She can tell he's ashamed of some things in his past. _Guilt-ridden _has never been so apt a descriptor for any other person she knows. He didn't want her opinion of him to change once she saw the entire picture. (He had no idea how unlikely that actually was.)

But, all at once, she sees the other half of his reasoning very clearly.

He was trying to protect her.

He wanted to shield her from dealing with his father or the emotions that accompanied his traumas. He knows her, perhaps better than anyone aside from Amy. He knows how empathetic she can be.

He was shielding her from his scars out of fear that she might feel them too, possibly subconsciously even.

Goddamn _beautiful _man.

How does he not see how kind-hearted he is? He sees the boy who smuggled drugs across the border and worried the people he loved, the man who impulsively married his best friend resulting in two wounded hearts, and the soldier who left his team behind to die without him. He sees himself as someone twisted and unlovable, but, like looking in a funhouse mirror, that image is hardly accurate.

Where he sees only darkness, she finds light. Where he remembers his failures, she celebrates his growth. She now realizes his greatest fear is inflicting irreparable damage on the people he loves and he will avoid that at all costs. Even if it means taking on all of the burden _himself_.

The truth of who he is and the lie of who he believes himself to be are at odds and the result is a man so noble that it makes her want to _sob_. He's extraordinary and he doesn't even know it.

The revelations in her heart lead her to join him in the kitchen, where he's whistling some tune she doesn't know and putting food containers in his fridge. As he shuts the refrigerator door she wraps her arms around him from behind and presses her cheek to his back, directly between his shoulder blades. Her love for him is so much stronger than he knows. Words may never express it thoroughly enough.

She feels his large callused hands cover hers as they rest on his chest.

"Lucy?" He asks in worry. "You okay?"

She nods against his back and sighs through her deep and abiding affection for him. "Just having a moment."

She hears a concerned grunt leave him and feels his abdominal muscles tense under her hands.

"The last time you had a 'moment' was in South Carolina and it didn't seem to be enjoyable."

"Not that kind of a moment," she says as her adoration for him swells again. He remembers that? She barely remembered that so how did he? "I just...I _love _you. So much that it's a bit overwhelming at times. Like now for instance."

He pries one of her hands off his chest and brings her fingers to his lips. "I love you, too." He turns in her arms and then cradles her face in his hands. His calluses are rough but his touch is always soft — velvety despite the texture of his skin.

"But you...God, Wyatt, you _amaze _me. You don't even know—" Great, now she really is going to cry. "—you don't even know how rare and _exquisite_ you are. You don't see yourself accurately and so you have no idea how astonishing it is to know you."

He wipes her tears with his thumbs as they quietly fall. His eyes redden and his face is solemn. He's hanging onto every word she says with rapt attention. Maybe he doesn't understand right now, but she knows he needs to hear these things.

"And I don't think anything I say will ever make you believe me," she finishes. "But I'm going to keep saying it — to keep trying to convince you — for a long time to come. Is that clear?"

He nods slowly and she thinks she hears a short sniffle before he manages to speak. "Yes, ma'am. Absolutely clear."

"Good," she says with a deep calming breath. "Since you cooked, I'll wash the dishes."

"You don't have to—"

"And you didn't have to cook dinner. But you did. I'm doing the dishes and that's final." She steps out of his arms and over to the sink. She feels his eyes on her the entire time.

The laugh he releases into the kitchen is watery but warm. "Bossy know-it-all," he mutters before he before he leans forward to kiss the top of her head. "I'll get your wine. We both know you won't want to waste the whole glass."

She grins secretively to herself as he heads back toward the living room. There he goes again, letting his actions speak to his love for her. "God, I really do love you," she says over her shoulder.

"You'd say that to anyone who brought you wine," he calls back to her from the next room.

"Only if I'm drunk," she admits with a laugh. "Otherwise, those words belong to you and Amy. For _very different_ reasons."

"Well, hell, I hope so. Or else I have some _serious_ concerns."

She guffaws and it echoes through the kitchen. As it meets her ears, even she knows it's been too long since her laugh sounded quite so happy.

* * *

So far, Tuesday is identical to Monday. Wyatt goes to work, texts Lucy periodically, puts up with his co-workers harassing him about Lucy staying at his place, and then he goes home to find Lucy curled up in his office's window seat with her laptop across her knees. He doesn't know what they're going to do about the distance between his house and her apartment, but on the off chance she decides to come back to San Francisco he decides he'll give the office to her.

He never uses it and she seems to have taken a liking to it so she can keep it.

It's forever marked with the image of her profile in the afternoon sunlight now, anyway. He'd never be able to do work in there and maintain his focus. He would always be thinking of her.

The difference of today versus yesterday, though, is that Lucy decides they're not staying in for dinner. No matter how hard he tries to change her mind.

"You've been working all day, Wyatt. You're not cooking for me again. And, trust me, neither of us wants _me_ to cook. We're going out."

And so they do. He doesn't have the willpower to say no to her when she's so irresistibly bossy.

She chooses the place. Some little artsy cafe, near Stanford, that has a surprisingly good burger and an interesting selection of beer. A little more hip than he'd normally go for but he's glad she talked him into it.

At least until _he_ showed up.

They're sitting in a booth in practically the dead center of the tiny restaurant. They can see everyone who comes and goes and everyone can see them. Neither of them give a damn about being seen. They're not thinking about it.

But halfway through dinner, he hears the bell above the door behind him. It means someone new has walked in. Not an odd occurrence. No, what's odd is the way Lucy goes rigid in five seconds flat.

"Oh, _shit_," she mutters as her face drains of color.

Wyatt's brow furrows and he moves to look over his shoulder but Lucy hand clutches his desperately.

"Please don't look," she begs. "I'm sincerely hoping we've magically become invisible."

"I'm getting worried here, Professor. What's going on behind me?" He asks. He's dying to turn around and look for himself.

"Um, well, my ex is here," she says as she tries to sink down into the booth.

"Jonas the Jagoff?" Wyatt asks her in a loud whisper.

She presses her lips together to hide her grin but he sees her eyes twinkling anyway.

"Wyatt," she says with soft rolling chuckle and a half hearted scolding glare.

"What? Is it inaccurate?" He asks.

"No," she replies with a smirk.

"Okay, then it sticks," he declares with a shrug. He squeezes her hand and then brings the back of it to his lips. "Relax, Luce. If he sees us, he sees us. It'll only be awkward for _him_, seeing as how he's an asshole and all."

"You don't even know him," Lucy tells him. But he can see in her face that she's pleased with his reaction.

"I know enough," Wyatt tells her. "Trust me."

Lucy finally starts to relax and returns to her half finished meal. Just as she shoves a bite of her chicken club sandwich into her mouth, a tall figure stops beside of their booth. Her eyes widen in panic and her face pulls a comical rubbery expression as she tries to chew quickly. Wyatt would laugh if he wasn't trying to catalogue every thing about the infamous _Jonas._

"Lucy!" Jonas says brightly. "You're back!"

She swallows, hard, and then takes a long sip of her water in attempt to wash down her food. "Um, hi, Jonas. And no, I'm not. Just in town visiting." She motions to Wyatt and then back to Jonas. "Wyatt this is Jonas, a former colleague, and Jonas this is Wyatt, my boyfriend."

Jonas takes a small shocked step backward as the word boyfriend leaves Lucy's lips, but he recovers quickly and shakes Wyatt's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Wyatt. You'll have to pardon my surprise. Carol didn't mention that Lucy was seeing anyone," Jonas tells them both as the handshake ends.

"Yes, well, my mother doesn't know everything about me, Jonas," Lucy says with an irritable click of her tongue. Wyatt bites back a wince at the coldness in her voice.

"She used to," Jonas replies.

"Unfortunately," Lucy retorts as her lips press together and her mouth forms one tense tight line. He's never seen Lucy like this.

Dismissive, indifferent, _curt_.

Jonas's voice turns hard. "I thought I knew you pretty well too."

Wyatt's eyes narrow. There's no mistaking the resentment in her ex-fiancé's tone. His friendly demeanor has cracked and through those cracks Wyatt can see his anger. If there's anyone who knows the varying degrees of anger, it's Wyatt Logan, and Jonas isn't just angry. He's _enraged_.

A switch flips inside of Wyatt and suddenly his protective instincts are _on._ His muscles tense. The only way he avoids his hands balling into fists is to set his elbows on the table and fold his hands together. Every bit of him is on edge and ready for a fight.

Lucy must recognize the anger too. There's an almost imperceptible flinch that flickers across her face before she turns to Jonas with feigned casual interest.

"It's funny how that works, isn't it?" She asks. "How you can _think_ you know a person but then they prove your faith in them so _horribly_ wrong? Or how you can trust someone so implicitly that you let them twist you up into horrible repentant knots despite the fact that you _know_ you're right? I get it, Jonas. I really do."

"I thought we talked about this?" Jonas says with a sneer.

Lucy scoffs and rolls her eyes. "You talked. I tried to. But you refused to listen."

"Try that the other way around, Lu," Jonas spits.

Lu? What a horrible nickname for Lucy. It just doesn't fit.

Jonas takes a hard step closer to Lucy and Wyatt tightens his hands together. He will not reach out and strangle this man in the middle of a crowded restaurant. At least not unless Wyatt's given an unmistakable reason.

"The blame doesn't lay completely at my feet," Jonas tells her. "You share some of it too. You're the one that ran away. You left the ring on my kitchen counter and _ran_. An over dramatic reaction, as always."

Lucy glances around the restaurant as the volume on his voice rises, and Wyatt's had just about _enough._ Where she was cool and confident before, now she looks cornered and embarrassed.

"Hey, man, I get that you're upset, but maybe this isn't the time and the place, alright?" Wyatt says as he leans across the table, toward Lucy.

Jonas rolls his eyes and snorts derisively. "_Hey, man_, I don't think this has anything to do with _you_. I was talking to _her_."

Wyatt quirks a brow, huffs, and then rolls his neck. Trying to work out the tension before he takes it out on Jonas's _face_. "If it involves Lucy, it involves me, and I'm telling you right now. _Back off_."

"You don't know it yet," Jonas says as he meets Wyatt's eyes with a glare. "But I'm trying to help _you_ out. She's jealous and paranoid and refuses to see reason. Just saving you the headache."

"Where the hell do you get off?" Lucy asks as she crosses her arms over her chest defensively. "How was I _paranoid_ when every damn one of my suspicions turned out to be true? You admitted as much to my _face_."

"And I explained what happened, didn't I? I needed to live, Lucy. To have options. You didn't give me the life I wanted so I had to find it elsewhere. I thought you understood that?"

"Is he fucking serious?" Wyatt asks Lucy with wide shocked eyes. It's enough that this douchebag thinks he can look Wyatt in the eyes and insult Lucy so bluntly, but then to pull out that bullshit on top of everything else…?

"Wyatt," Lucy says in a warning tone. He can tell she wants him to stay out of it, but seriously…

What the _fuck?_

"Am I actually hearing this asshole correctly? He's blaming _you_ because _he_ can't keep his dick to himself?"

Of all the manipulative piece of shit lines that Wyatt has heard in his life that one is the _most _ridiculous.

"All she wanted to do was stay home and write her books. That doesn't even really serve her professionally. Universities want professors who care more about the university than themselves. They want grant money. Books don't bring in grant money. Especially not speculative works about alternative events no one can _possibly_ predict. Like her Lincoln book," Jonas says with a roll of his eyes. "I was _bored_."

"Is he still talking?" Wyatt asks Lucy with a glower. "He _can't_ still be talking and especially not about _you_."

"Jonas, please _leave_," Lucy requests through gritted teeth.

"No."

Jonas flexes his fingers as he venomously growls that one syllable and Wyatt recognizes the motion immediately. It's the itch to touch — to _grab_. He's seen it before enough fights and domestic disputes to know. You don't spend time around some truly backwards religious laws, both in Texas and the Middle East, without learning to recognize an abuser on the edge.

Wyatt's tone is deceptively even when his stare confronts Jonas's angry one in a clear threat. "If you even _try_ to lay one fucking finger on her, I will slam your face into this table so damn fast."

Jonas looks skeptical at first but he straightens up quickly when Wyatt tilts his head with a lethal smirk.

"Go, ahead, douchebag," Wyatt challenges. "_Try me_."

"_Wyatt_," Lucy admonishes with wide startled eyes. "Please stop. That isn't helping."

Wyatt scowls but nods. He hates that he's the one being scolded right now when that bastard is disrespecting Lucy left and right. But he refuses to put any additional stress on her at the moment. He'll comply, _for now_. But he meant what he just said. Jonas better not even twitch in Lucy's direction.

"So this is the kind of guy you date now?" Jonas asks her. "The big dumb guard dog type?"

"Better a big dumb guard dog than a condescending and manipulative punk ass bitch," Wyatt retorts, finally having to give in and fist his hands underneath the table.

Lucy groans miserably and shoots Wyatt a silencing glare. "_Please_. Don't make it worse."

"I'm not just gonna sit back and let this jagoff—"

"Wyatt, let me handle it. It's _okay_," she assures him with a frustrated huff.

He grinds his teeth and crosses his arms to physically restrain himself as much as possible. He meets Lucy's incensed molten gaze with his seething blue one and nods.

Has he mentioned that he _hates_ this?

"Jonas," Lucy says sternly. "It's time for you to go."

"I'm not—"

"_Now._" Lucy insists.

"No! You owe me an explanation," he replies adamantly

"Owe you?" Lucy asks. She's not just _loud_, she's _shrill_. "I _owe you_ nothing! You cheated on _me_ and then you made me think that I was crazy — you _fucking _gaslighted me, Jonas. And when you finally admitted the truth, you turned it around on me just like you did tonight. So the notion that I owe _you_ is utterly ridiculous. I don't owe you a _goddamn_ thing."

Here's where he learns yet another new thing about Lucy: watching her rip someone a new one is _sexy as hell_.

But then _it_ happens. The very thing Wyatt was afraid of.

Jonas reaches out a bony hand _intent_ on wrapping it around Lucy's arm. Only Jonas doesn't know about Wyatt's Delta Force reflexes. Wyatt is up from his seat like a shot, rounding on Jonas, before the man can hurl another insult at Lucy.

His hand wraps around Jonas's wrist just as his fingers reach her arm. He pulls that wrist behind Jonas, presses it to his back, and swiftly uses his free hand on the back of his neck to slam the taller man's face against the table.

He hears a fearful yelp from Lucy and a satisfying cry of pain from Jonas as his cheek smashes against the smooth wood. When Wyatt looks over at Lucy, she's glaring angrily at him.

"What?" Wyatt asks irritably as he holds Jonas firm against the surface of the table. "I fucking warned him. Not my fault he didn't take it seriously."

"Wyatt," Lucy says, pinching the bridge of her nose and seeming to focus on her breathing. "Let him go."

"I'll let him go when he agrees to get his whiny man-child ass out of our personal space. What do you say, Jonas? Think you can do that?"

The entire dining room is staring at them now. There are a few cell phones pointed in their direction, filming the spectacle. Lucy's face is deep red from anger and embarrassment, but at the moment Wyatt doesn't give a damn. Bastards who are emotionally abusive have the potential to turn physically abusive and he _will not_ let this man hurt Lucy - whether she likes his methods of gatekeeping or _not_.

Jonas tries to push up against him. Wyatt rolls his eyes and applies pressure. "I _said_, what do you say, Jonas? _Think you can do that_?"

"Yes, okay, fine. Let me go, you psycho!"

Wyatt pulls him up from the table and shoves him in the direction of the door. "Wonderful. Have a nice night."

Jonas stumbles to the door, looking shaken and Wyatt holds his death glare steady as he calls after him. "Oh, and Jonas?"

The man turns expectantly with a cowardly hesitance that Wyatt shouldn't enjoy, but does (since Wyatt's the one who instilled it in him.)

"Stay the hell away from Lucy. I won't be so _nice_ next time."

A hush falls over the cafe as Wyatt returns to his seat. Once he's seated there's a surprising amount of scattered applause and cheers.

But neither of those things come from Lucy. She ignores him as she asks the waiter for to-go boxes and then silently fumes from her side of the booth until the rest of their dinners are packed up, the bill is paid, and they're walking down the street toward his car.

Either she'll shove all the anger down like she did before their big fight or he's in for an explosion the size of Vesuvius. He's hoping for the explosion, believe it or not. They'll get it all out into the open and then they'll deal with it.

"You took that a bit _too far_, don't you think?" She asks in a waspish tone.

"No, ma'am. I never once escalated a thing. He did that himself," Wyatt responds calmly. The facts are the facts and the fact is, Jonas is a piece of shit.

"I had it under control," she says in exasperation. "If you would have stayed out of it then he would have gone away on his own."

Wyatt chuckles dryly. "I respectfully disagree, Luce."

Luce is really so much better than Lu. Why would anyone call her _Lu_?

"This better not be how things go from now on," she says angrily as they reach his car. "I can fight my own battles. I've managed fine for over thirty years of my life."

He tries to open her door for her but she grabs the handle herself, pointedly opening it before him.

"I know I seem like a weak and overly emotional damsel in distress, Wyatt, but I don't need or want a knight in shining armor," she tells him as her eyes narrow dangerously on his.

"_Weak_?" Wyatt asks as Lucy steps into the passenger seat. "Is that what you see? You really think that _I_ think that?"

Her refusal to look at him is answer enough. He puts one hand on the open car door and another on the roof of the car, walling her off from passersby on the sidewalk with his arms, and forces her to meets his determined gaze.

"You are _not_ weak. I have never once looked at you and thought the word _weak_. I think you might be projecting, ma'am," he says pointedly.

She may think that of herself but it's certainly not true. If she wants to know what he saw go down with Jonas then he'll tell her. Because _weak_ is the absolute last word he would ever use to describe Lucy Preston.

"No, what I saw back there was strength and _fire_ and it was unbelievably attractive. I know you're pissed at me right now, but personally I'm just flat out turned on. You stood your ground and told him exactly how he made you feel. You didn't take _any_ of his shit."

He stops and crouches down next to the car to be eye level with her. This next part is important and he wants to be _certain_ she understands.

"You were a _warrior_ back there, Preston. I didn't step in because you were weak. I stepped in because guys like Jonas don't play fair. They bruise easy and don't react well when they think they've been beat by someone they see as lesser. Jonas expected you to shrink and give in. The moment he knew you wouldn't is the moment he tried to grab you. Trust me. I've met enough guys like him to know. He wouldn't have stopped at grabbing you. I am happy to stand back and let you verbally rip that asswipe a new one but when it starts to get physical I _have_ to step in. That bastard hurt you enough as it is. He gets no more fucking chances," Wyatt tells her. He sharpens his tone until its flinty as steel. She needs to know how serious he is. He's not going to let her get hurt, physically _or_ emotionally. "Not on my watch."

She doesn't reply. She looks taken aback and he can't currently decide if that's good or bad. But he's said his piece and he's not sorry about any of it. He kisses her temple with closed eyes before he stands, closes her door, and walks around to the driver's side.

The words Jonas threw at her dig around in his brain while he walks. Boring? Did he really call Lucy Preston _boring_? Paranoid? Jealous? And yes, she's stubborn but "won't see reason"? Her whole life is based around facts and reason. She's passionate about _history_ for Christ's sake. The fucking idiot didn't know Lucy at all.

She is far too good for a piece of garbage like _Jonas_. And he's going to make sure she knows it.

He sits down in the driver's seat but doesn't start the car. He's waiting to see what she'll say or if she'll say anything at all. Finally, she does.

"Okay, I understand interfering when he reached for me," Lucy says softly. Her stunned expression gives way to weak vindictive grin. "And I did _slightly_ enjoy seeing you smash his pretentious face against that table."

"Only slightly?" Wyatt asks with a knowing smirk.

"Alright, _a lot_. I enjoyed it a lot," she admits with a reluctant chuckle. "_But_ I did not like your comments to Jonas."

She's hesitant to continue. This is normally where she would clam up and keep her frustrations to herself. He can _see_ the effort she makes to power through. This moment is important. He knows he needs to listen closely.

"Whether you see it or not, you weren't helping," She tells him with a tired sigh. "In fact, you may have distracted him from every single point I tried to make. So now he'll likely only stay away from me _because_ of you. That's not what I wanted. I wanted him to be afraid of _me_, not my boyfriend." She bites her bottom lip worriedly as she goes on. "I mean, what if I run into him without you around? Will he still try something because 'my guard dog' isn't watching my back?"

Alright, so _that_ is actually a very good point. "I didn't think about that."

"Of course you didn't," she says as her worried expression adapts a bit of mirth. "You're a _man_. A military trained man, and you _look it_. No one is going to mess with you. But I have lived my whole life with asshole men stalking me in bars." Like in South Carolina, he thinks. "Or following me around college campuses and leering at me over faculty advisor appointments. They only back off when they're afraid of _me_. In my experience nothing else stops them. I mean, look at Myrtle Beach. Anytime you walked away from me that first night, Margaritaville creep was buzzing around. Because I didn't give him a reason to be wary of _me_. I used _you_ as a shield. I shouldn't have done that."

Despite the disappointment in herself reflecting in her eyes, she cracks a tiny smile and allows her gaze to linger over him heatedly. "But I really wanted an excuse to be around you so...I allowed it." She slips her hand into his and laces their fingers together, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "In that one case, I'm glad I did. But, as a general rule, I _need _to stand on my own two feet, and it would help if you could be mindful of that."

He brings the hand he holds to his lips with a somber nod. "That makes sense and I'm sorry. I can get better at that. I _will_ get better at that, for you."

"Thank you," she says quietly. "And _I'm_ sorry for being so short with you out there." She nods to the street to indicate their earlier conversation. "You were right. I _was_ projecting. A part of that was also an unfair association of you to Jonas. You're _not_ Jonas. I know that. But whether I want it to or not his opinion of me has changed the way I think other people see me."

"Jonas is a manipulative asshole," Wyatt declares. Just the douchebag's name leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "His opinion means nothing. He was wrong about everything he said about you. I hope you know that."

"Most of the time, I do," she confesses self consciously. "But occasionally I may need reminding."

He leans across the seats and kisses her quickly before offering her a warm smile. "Happy to do the reminding, Professor. Anytime you need it."

He starts the car and they head home. Lucy is still quiet and pensive, but she doesn't voice her thoughts. About halfway home, Lucy gets a call from Amy.

"Hey, sis," Lucy says as she answers with false brightness.

Huh. So she really hides her hurt from everyone then? Not _just_ him?

"Um, yes. How did you—_what_? How did _she _find out?" Lucy rolls her eyes and slumps back in the seat. "Of course he did. God, you know, I would hate him but that's more of an emotional investment than he deserves. Why did she call _you_?"

Lucy listens and then, abruptly, there's a long pause during which Wyatt can hear Amy say Lucy's name several times. Whatever answer Amy gave, Lucy does not like.

"Yeah," she finally answers, disappointment evident on her face. "I'm here." Amy's voice can be made out replying but he can't hear her words. Whatever it is, it makes Lucy grin and turn her eyes on him. "Don't encourage him. He and I have already discussed what was and _wasn't_ appropriate. I can't believe the prick went and whined to _our mom_. What did I ever see in him? Seriously?"

"I'd like the answer to that question as well," Wyatt adds. He assumes they're talking about Jonas.

"When I think of one, I'll tell you," Lucy says with a scoff. Amy says something else and Lucy nods before speaking. "Right. Okay. Thanks for the heads up. I mean I never answer her calls anyway but at least now I won't feel guilty about deleting her voicemails without listening to them. Love you too."

She hangs up with growl and throws her phone in her purse.

"He tattled on me to my mother," Lucy informs him with a scowl.

"It _just_ happened. That means he called her the minute I shoved him out the door."

She nods. "That's exactly what he did and then mom called Amy to ask her about 'the brute' I'm dating and accuse her of letting me fail at life. Apparently, my mother thinks I'm my sisters lap dog and that I will do whatever she tells me to do so she wanted her to talk me about Jonas. She thinks I'm the doormat of all doormats and I honestly can't blame her. I was a doormat around her and Jonas too a lot of the time."

He ignores the stab to his pride that comes with knowing her mother already doesn't like him and forges ahead to provide Lucy comfort. Seeing Jonas and hearing about her mother has only sent her deeper into her troubled thoughtful mood.

"I think we all have at least one person we let walk all over us," Wyatt tells her sympathetically. "I certainly let my dad get away with a ton of abusive shit, even as an adult. So, you're not alone. What's important is that the people who try to take advantage of you are at least evenly matched by the people who support you, and I genuinely believe that Amy and I can easily wipe the floor with both Jonas and your mother. We'll tag team them."

Lucy laughs loudly and grins at him. "Oh, I would _love_ to see that."

"Say the word and I'll make it happen," Wyatt offers, only half jokingly.

"I think we're good for now, soldier, but I'll keep you on call if anything changes," Lucy tells him as her smile brightens.

"Keep me on call as long as you want, Luce," he replies. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Lucy spends most of Wednesday unable to write. She blames the fact that it's poker night. Yes, she's met Wyatt's friends and exchanged a few texts. She's spent the most time with Dave and is honestly excited to see him again, but beyond him she's nervous. Spending an evening with them is different than a few hours at his office. She's keenly aware of that.

She's particularly nervous about Jess. The last time Lucy saw her had been a disaster. She's been operating under the assumption that her first impression didn't matter, but what if that's not accurate? What if Jess took an unfavorable view of her from that exchange and only invited Lucy to poker night to be polite?

Jess and Wyatt have known each other most of their lives. She feels like getting along with Jessica is very important. She wants tonight to go well. Last night was bad enough. _Tonight_ can't be bad too.

And the thing about impulsively deciding to stay for a week when you only packed for a weekend is that you have a very limited amount of clothing to work with. Which is how she ends up calling her baby sister in a panic.

"What the hell am I supposed to wear to poker night with his friends?" Lucy asks her sister with an anxious gulp.

"I'm assuming casual," Amy says with barely restrained amusement.

"Right, but casual is a very subjective term. Is it casual like business casual? Casual like jeans and t-shirts? Or casual like sweatpants and leggings are acceptable? There are many variations of casual to consider, Amy."

"Go with whichever one is the happy medium," her sister replies thoughtfully. "Which I think would be jeans and a t-shirt."

"Right, okay, I only have the one pair of jeans so laundry it is." Her brain keeps panicking while she gathers things to wash for a load of colors. "And is this considered a party? Mom always said never show up to a party empty handed. Should I bring something? Or is poker night not that kind of occasion?"

"Luce, don't stress. I'm sure they don't expect you to bring anything. You're a guest from out of town. Take a breath. Calm down."

Calm down, right. She can do that. "I'm sorry. I'm nervous."

"Haven't you met his friends, already?"

"Yes, but very briefly. This is a whole night with them! What if they can only take me in small doses? What if I can only take _them_ in small doses?" She doesn't understand. Lucy knows she doesn't because she didn't either at first.

Not until last night after dinner when she asked Wyatt about them and he gushed for the rest of the evening. These people are more than just his coworkers.

"I have friends, Ames, but I don't have friends like _this_. They're his family. He told me they spend holidays together. _Holidays_. They had a cookout at Dave's house on July Fourth. All of them. Together. Playing yard games and setting up a water slide for Dave's daughter. _We_ spent July Fourth in my apartment with our terrible homemade Sangria, Chinese take out, and _A Capital Fourth_ on PBS. This is _so much more_ than simply meeting his friends."

"Did they have sparklers?" Amy asks eagerly.

"What?"

"On July Fourth, did they have sparklers? You know, those sticks that you light on fire that you can spell your name with if you wave them fast enough?"

Her sister's voice is suddenly small — childlike — and it causes Lucy to smile softly into her phone. "I don't know. Maybe."

"If they did then we're spending next Fourth of July with them. Mom never let us have those," Amy states wistfully. "Also, a water slide sounds _amazing_. Throw in a beer and a burger and I'm sold."

"Can we hold off on the long term plans for now?" Lucy asks her warmly. "I don't want to get my hopes up. That fantasy you're working on could all fall apart if tonight doesn't go well."

"It'll go well," Amy assures her.

"How do you know?"

"Because if they don't adore you then his friends are idiots," she responds immediately. "And you make Wyatt happy, Lucy. I'm _sure_ that's everything they've ever wanted for him."

Lucy feels soothed by her talk with Amy. She washes and dries a load of clothes, including somethings of Wyatt's. Might as well do a full load if she's washing. After lunch she sits down and manages to write a few thousand words. Not the most she's ever written but it's better than nothing.

And then Wyatt comes home. He finds her in his bedroom, reading — or trying to. He tells her they should probably leave in an hour. She's already dressed so she simply nods and goes back to her book.

He steps into his closet for a change of clothes and then out again and gives her a curious glance.

"Did you do my laundry? There's more clothes in the closet than there were when I left."

She shrugs from her spot against his headboard. "I had to wash a couple of things so I washed a load of your colors. Didn't want to waste the water."

"Yeah, but...did you iron my shirts?" He asks with raised eyebrows.

"Just the nice ones. I assume you don't iron your t-shirts, considering you grabbed a wadded up one from the back corner of your closet this morning and wore it on your run," she says as she gives him a teasing grin. "Finally, I've found something the soldier does slovenly."

He's ignores her playful jab and meets her eyes earnestly.

"You didn't have to do that," he tells her as he comes to sit next to her on the bed.

"I know," she replies. "But I wanted to. Besides, I was washing my outfit for tonight anyway. It wasn't any trouble."

He ambushes her with a kiss, and it is glorious. Damn, if she knew laundry and ironing would get this reaction out of him she would have done it sooner.

Once they've been deprived of all the air they can handle he arches away from her with a doting smile. "Thank you."

She blinks at him, dazed. "Anytime. Believe me. What other household chores will get you to kiss me like that again? Dusting, vacuuming? Learning how to make the bed so crisply that you can bounce a coin off of it? Whatever it is, I'll do it."

He snickers softly and gives her one more quick kiss. "I don't know. Why don't you just do them all and then we'll find out?"

"Oh no, I'm not doing all that work just to have you hold out on me when I'm done." She knows exactly how sneaky he is. "That's hardly fair."

"But you did my laundry without any incentive, so really what's the difference?" He asks with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes and then tenderly runs a hand through his hair. "Good try. No dice."

He laughs and then drops a kiss to her neck. "God, I love you."

She feels a giddy flutter in her stomach, like she does every time he says those words, and beams at him. "I love you, too."

"I do need you to promise me something, though," he says as he gives her a concerned glance.

"What's that?" She asks as she curls further into him.

"My friends can be a lot. I know that. If it's too much for you, at any point, just tell me. We'll leave. Don't try to bury it and paste on that forced smile of yours. It may work on other people but it no longer works on me," he says softly as he wraps his arms around her. "If you need to be eased into my weird extended family, I understand. We're all well aware how abnormal we are."

She chuckles lightly and nods against him. "I promise. I'll tell you. But I'm hoping that won't happen. I'm nervous about tonight but I'm also..._excited_. I don't have very many people I can count on in my life and the fact that you have so many is _refreshing_. I—I want that too, and I want them to like me."

He gives her a kiss that's lost in her hair. "They already do, and I think they're all nervous too. Emma asked me three times today if you had any food allergies. Jessica forced her to ask, I think. They want tonight to go well as badly as you do."

"Well, that's comforting," Lucy says with a relieved sigh. Her sister was right, as she typically is. Thinking about her sister reminds her of their conversation about holidays. "Did you guys have sparklers at your July Fourth cookout?" She asks.

If he thinks the question is sudden or odd, he doesn't show it. "Yeah. Why?"

"Mom never let us have them. Amy asked me when I called her this morning. I thought I'd give her an answer," Lucy tells him. "We've never really had big holiday celebrations in our family. Not since our dad died, at least."

His hand rubs a comforting circle on her back as her tone lowers. He's so good at reading her emotions. He may be better at it than she is.

"You and Amy are welcome to join all of us anytime," Wyatt declares. "Whether it's for a holiday or just for Wednesday poker."

"Thank you," Lucy replies as her eyes mist over. She's really going to have to stop crying _every time_ he says something sweet.

But it's been such a long time since she and Amy have really had family. They're mother barely counts. Their father, however, was the ultimate family man. Dad jokes, family vacations, biggest Christmas tree on the lot, and all. He was the one always supporting them, no matter how small the accomplishment. The idea of having some sort of support system similar to that again, with Wyatt no less, is overwhelmingly breathtaking.

She must be quiet for long enough to concern Wyatt because he squeezes her shoulders and leans down to press his lips to the shell of her ear.

"You okay?" He asks.

She nods and then leans back to capture his lips with hers. When she pulls away from the kiss she rests her forehead to his while she answers him. "I'm just..._happy_."

"Me too," he admits as his eyes fall closed and he breathes deeply. "I, honestly, didn't realize how unhappy I was until I met you. But now…"

"Now you know what you've been missing all this time?" She asks as she tries to complete his thought.

His eyes open into hers and a loving smile spreads across his lips. "Yes, that's exactly it."

"I feel the exact same way. I thought I was fine, but I wasn't. I need this," she says as she points between them. "I need _you_."

"Feeling's mutual, ma'am," he says as he closes the distance between them to kiss her slowly.

They don't leave the bed for at least another half hour. Content to hold each other for a quiet moment. Finally, Wyatt forces himself to get up and change clothes.

When he's done he walks to her side of the bed and holds out a hand with a reassuring grin. "You ready, Professor?"

She inhales and then exhales slowly, gathering her nerves, before she sets her book aside, places her hand in his and nods. "As I'll ever be."

He pulls her to her feet and kisses her temple quickly. "They're going to love you. Trust me."

And trust him, she does. It's going to be fine.

He's so certain that he makes her believe it.


	12. 11 Coming Home

**A/N:** SKETCHINGWITCH (FIONA) POSTED ANOTHER GORGEOUS SKETCH FROM THIS FIC. I can't even put words to how that makes me feel. Not adequate ones at least! Go check out that sketch and give it a like and an RT! It deserves all the attention you can manage. She's incredibly talented and I can hardly believe how stunning her sketches are. She really and truly might be a sketching witch!

As a thank you for the beautiful art, here is chapter eleven. Hopefully this chapter lives up to everyone's expectations and the poker isn't awful. Never played it but the amazingly kind **ekmalaterre** gave me a crash course in Texas Hold 'Em over twitter DMs and saved me! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR HELP!

Happy reading!

Angellwings

PS - I subconsciously named Dave's daughter after Fiona lol. Didn't realize till after this scene was written haha.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Coming Home

* * *

"I'm longing for the real thing, people who know the real me,

And all the ways to love me back to life.

I gotta get it right.

Get it right.

There's a place that I know where they all know me,

I gotta get back now to the ones who love me.

Wrap myself around you, never let you go.

There's nothing in the world that feels like,

The place that I know where they all know me,

I gotta get back now to the ones who love me.

Wrap myself around you, never let you go.

There's nothing in the world that feels like coming home.

Coming home.

I'm coming home."

-"Coming Home" by Keith Urban Ft. Julia Michaels

* * *

He'll never tell Lucy, but he's nervous too. He needs his friends to mesh well with Lucy. He's never had this many important people in his life at once and he does not want to lose any of them.

But he's not really worried. His friends have all been encouraging about Lucy and most of them have met her. There is one member of their group who has yet to meet Lucy. Who he's actually yet to talk to about Lucy at all. She's been so busy that she hasn't been by Mason lately to check on their progress for their D.H.S. contracts.

But she should be there tonight and he's positive someone has already filled her in on Lucy (Probably Jiya.)

They arrive a little late to Jessica and Emma's but so does everyone else. Lucy looks adorable in her jeans and white t-shirt. She forgot a sweater, though, so Wyatt loans her the zip up hoodie out of his gym bag (thank god his gym clothes are clean or else that would have been embarrassing.) It's bright red and nearly swallows her whole, but it's necessary. Jessica wasn't lying. Emma keeps their thermostat very low.

He enjoys seeing her in it. Not only because it's obvious to everyone that it's his hoodie and there's something decidedly official about people seeing your girlfriend in your clothes, but because she looks more relaxed in it. Almost as if wearing some trace of him calms her nerves.

Connor arrives at the same time they do, followed by Rufus and Jiya. He's content to sit back and watch Lucy interact with his friends. Lucy is chatting amiably with Jiya and Jess in the far corner of the room when the front door bursts open and hyper giggle fills the air.

Wyatt turns just a second before a little body catapults toward him. She knocks the wind out of him slightly but he still manages to catch and lift her.

"Who are you?" Wyatt asks the little red-head with a playful glare. "I don't know you."

"Yes, you do!" The six year old yells with a wild laugh. "You're my daddy's best friend, silly!"

He squints at her and makes a thoughtful humming sound. "No, my best friend is Dave and his little girl was about a foot shorter than you the last time I saw her." Her red hair is pulled back into a French braid, leaving her ears on display so he can see the tiny round gold studs in her earlobes. "And she definitely did _not_ have her ears pierced."

"It's me, Wy-wy!" She exclaims with a wide grin.

"Who's me, again?" He asks with pretend cluelessness. He tickles her sides and she squeals and thrashes against him.

"Fi!" She yells with a cackle. "It's Fiona!"

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" He asks as he tosses her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Daddy!" Fi yells dramatically. "Help me! He's got me!"

"Sorry, squirt," Dave says as he holds up his hands, palms out. "You got yourself into this and now you have to get yourself out of it."

Wyatt walks her over to the couch and carefully drops the little girl onto it while she laughs hysterically. He sits down next to her and the leans back on top of her, very lightly. Enough to hold her down but not enough to crush her.

"Your dad didn't tell us you were coming, Fi," Jess says with a smirk as she walks by and tugs the end of her braid. "I would have made sure to have those cookies you like if I knew."

"Oh, I'm not staying!" She says as she tries to fight her way out from under Wyatt. "Mommy's picking me up in a few minutes. I have an audition!"

Dave looks nonplussed but grunts confirmation. "For a local commercial. I have to pick her up at Jenny's after our game."

While still keeping Fi trapped underneath him Wyatt catches Dave's eye and points to his own ears. "Is that why she has the earrings?"

"Yeah, that was a fun little surprise for me when I picked Fi up from Jenny's Monday morning," Dave says with tired eyes and a forced smile.

Wyatt winces. His conversation with Dave distracts him enough that Fi manages to escape. She runs straight to Jiya, who's still standing next to Lucy.

"Ji-ji, help!" Fi yells as she pushes herself behind Jiya. "Hide me from the Wy-monster."

Lucy laughs loudly and then tries to cover it with a hand to her mouth. Her eyes tell him that she won't be letting that one go anytime soon.

"Don't start," he tells her with a grin and a glare.

"I didn't say a thing," Lucy says with feigned innocence. She turns to Jiya with a smirk. "Did I, Jiya?"

"Nope, not a thing," Jiya agrees, chuckling as she places a hand on Fiona's shoulder.

Lucy then turns her mirthful eyes on Fiona. She kneels and offers Fiona her hand for a shake.

"Hi, I'm Lucy."

"Fiona Baumgardner," Fi says warily as she takes Lucy's hand. "I'm six."

Lucy furrows her brow and shakes her head. "I don't believe you. You can't be six years old."

"But I am!" Fi yells as she straightens her back and shoulders. "I'm six _and a half_!"

"Uh-uh, nope. You're twelve. I know it."

"Twelve?" Fiona says with a blasting giggle. "No! I'm not twelve!"

"Right, sorry, I have that backwards. I meant, twenty-one."

"No! I'm not _old_! I'm a little girl!"

"You're not. You're tricking me," Lucy insists.

"Nuh-uh! Mommy says I'm not allowed to play tricks. Not after daddy and I threw that man-kin down the stairs!"

Lucy stops to look at Dave with a gaze that's both amused and reproachful. "You _what_?"

"It was Halloween and it was a _joke_," Dave explains frantically. "We threw a mannequin down my front steps that was dressed like me. It's not my fault that Jenny doesn't have a sense of humor!"

"She screamed _really_ loud," Fi adds with a snicker. "She doesn't like to talk about it."

"I bet not," Lucy says with a muted chuckle.

"You have pretty hair, Lucy," Fiona says as she focuses a wide admiring gaze on her.

"Me? No way. My hair is boring. Now _yours_ on the other hand is beautiful! I love your braid," she tells her.

"I know how! I could do yours!" Fiona shrieks as she grabs Lucy's hand and drags her over to the couch. She points to the floor in front of the couch. "Sit! Do you have a hair bow?"

Lucy grins at her and does as she's told. She slips an elastic tie off of her wrist and places it in the little girl's hand. "How's that?"

"It'll do," Fi says as she sits behind Lucy with a shrug.

Wyatt leans toward Dave and whispers. "Can she braid?"

He snorts and shakes his head. "Not really. She tries though. Your girlfriend's pretty good with kids."

"Seems to be," Wyatt agrees as he keeps his eyes on Lucy and smiles affectionately. "Fi certainly likes her."

"Fi likes everyone. Even Emma," Dave replies with a scoff and smirk. "But yeah, it didn't take very long for her to warm up to Lucy, that's for sure. How are you two doing anyway? Any issues _cohabitating _for the week?" Dave's eyebrows wag up and down on the word "cohabitating" and Wyatt responds with an eye roll.

"She's staying with me for a week, Bam-Bam. Don't talk like she's moving in. We haven't talked about possible ways to resolve the distance yet. We're too busy making sure we're open with each other to think too far ahead right now," Wyatt answers honestly. "But it has been nice. Seeing her every day. I've enjoyed it."

"Wait, wait, wait," Dave says with a pleasantly surprised smile. "Open with each other? Are you actually talking? As in about _yourself_?"

"I would be offended that you sound so surprised but I've recently been forced to understand how _horrible_ I am at talking. I mean I never thought I was good at it but I didn't realize how much I avoid it," Wyatt says with a wry grin. "I didn't even think about it. I didn't see it as keeping things from her, even though I was."

"Keeping your past to yourself is fine with your friends, but it's different when you decide you want to share all of your downtime with someone," Dave says sagely. "I think a lot of us soldiers have that problem, Wyatt. You're not alone. A lot of people with crap histories enlist. Like you and me. And all we want is to do the job and do it well. Fu—screw the past." He corrects his curse in case Fi is listening and Wyatt grins at him. Dave as a dad is still a novelty to Wyatt, even six years in. "But we can't erase the sh—crappy parts of our past. And like it or not, they made us who we are. The people who truly care about you, Wyatt, want to know _who_ you are. Crappy history and all."

"I'm starting to understand that," Wyatt admits. "Slowly."

"Because of her," Dave says with a knowing smile as he nods toward Lucy. "She's good for you."

Wyatt watches Lucy as she lets Fi twist her hair into something not quite resembling a braid with a warm smile on his face. "I know."

"You better know," Dave says as he shoves Wyatt lightly. "You let her get away and I'll kick your as—butt."

Wyatt laughs and nods. "I'll keep that in mind for the sake of my as—butt."

Dave rolls his eyes at Wyatt and shakes his head. "Jerk." Dave's phone chimes and he pulls it out of his jacket pocket to check it.

"Fi!" He calls as he reads. "Your mom's here."

"Coming!" Fi yells happily. She loops the elastic around the end of Lucy's hair and then surprises her with a tackling hug. "Nice to meet you, Lucy!"

Lucy smiles affectionately and hugs her in return. "You too, Fi. Have fun at your audition."

"Will you be here next week?" Fi asks with wide pleading eyes.

Lucy's eyes flash with disappointment but her smile doesn't falter. "No, sweetie, I have to go home next week."

"Oh," Fi responds with a pout.

"Fi," Dave says again. "Let's go."

"Don't worry," Lucy assures her, tugging the little girl's braid. "We'll see each other soon. I'm gonna be hanging around with the Wy-monster a lot."

Fi gasps excitedly. "Are you his _girlfriend_?"

Lucy nods and Fi squeals.

"Daddy! Wy-wy has a girlfriend!" She yells.

"Yeah, Fi, I know. Now come on, your mom's outside with the car running," Dave says in amusement as he holds his hand out to her.

She runs toward him but stops in front of Wyatt. She tugs his hand and he takes the hint to kneel in front of her. She puts her hands on his shoulders and meets his eyes with a serious expression.

"Don't mess this up, okay?" She says in a loud whisper. "She's nice and pretty."

"I'm gonna give it my all, kid," Wyatt replies as he matches her serious face.

She holds out her pinky and narrows her eyes. "Pinky promise?"

He links his pinky with hers and nods. "Pinky promise."

She seems satisfied with that. She kisses his cheek quickly and then scampers off to grab Dave's hand.

"Bye!" She exclaims to the entire room.

They echo it back to her and wave as Dave leads her out the door.

"Well, that was the most adorable thing I think I've ever seen," Lucy says as she watches Wyatt rise from his kneeling position.

"Yeah?" He asks as he reaches out for the end of her lumpy, loose braid. He smirks and pushes it back behind her shoulder. "Nice hair, by the way."

"Thanks," she says with exaggerated primness. "My stylist is amazing."

"Your stylist is six."

"And _amazing_," Lucy insists with feigned offense.

Jessica moves them all into the dining room, that Jess never uses for dining, to where a round card table is set up with another table in the corner that's covered in snacks and beverages. As always, Jess is well prepared. The group takes their seats, leaving two chairs empty. The two chairs to the left of Wyatt are empty, but beyond those sit Jess and then Emma, followed by Connor. To his right sits Lucy with Rufus and Jiya on her other side.

"Anthony coming tonight?" Connor asks Rufus as he shrugs off his jacket and slips it on the back of the chair.

"Nah, his wife roped him into some fundraising thing at a fancy ballroom in a fancy hotel. You know Rach. She's all about charity. She would never have let him out of it," Rufus answers with a smirk. "So now he's in a monkey suit listening to some keynote speaker drone on about some infectious disease or something."

"And we're here hoping to bluff our friends out of their hard earned money. Clearly we're the smart ones," Jiya says sarcastically. "Or at the very least the unfeeling ones."

Lucy chuckles and shakes her head. "Not unfeeling. So much money is spent on those ridiculous fancy fundraisers and a lot of it doesn't end up where you assume it should. My mother used to organize those things all the time. They're a waste of time. Just an excuse for a fancy party, unfortunately."

"Well," Connor says with a quiet laugh. "I feel better then. Thank you for easing my conscience."

"You're very welcome," Lucy replies, grinning. "Anytime."

Wyatt stands from the table to grab a beer for himself and a glass of wine for Lucy. She gives him a grateful smile as he comes back and places a white wine in her hands.

Emma slides the cards over to Wyatt and places a large clear bowl on the table. "Buy in is twenty. Everybody gets 2000 chips."

The bowl is passed first to Emma's left, to Connor. He drops in a twenty and pulls out a plastic sandwich bag of poker chips. The bowl goes to Jiya and then Rufus who both do the same. Lucy nods, takes the bowl, and does the same before passing it to Wyatt. Just as Wyatt is about to ask about their two empty seats, the seat fillers in question walk in.

"Look who I ran into outside," Dave announces as he points over his shoulder to the woman who followed him in. "One very rarely seen Special Agent Denise Christopher. Caught her lurking. Which one of you is a domestic terrorism threat?" He points to Jiya teasingly. "It's gotta be you, Marri."

"Please," Jiya scoffs. "I'm an angel."

Denise laughs and shakes her head. "I wouldn't go quite that far." The older woman spots Lucy and smiles kindly. "You're new." She reaches across the table to shake Lucy's hand. "Denise."

"Lucy," she replies as she returns the handshake.

Jess gives Denise a pointed look. "She's with _Wyatt_."

"Excuse me, what?" Denise asks with wide eyes as she releases Lucy's hand. "Somebody actually got the monk to go on a date?"

Lucy lets out a quick snorting laugh. "The monk? Was he really that bad? I mean he said he hadn't been on a date in a couple of months when we met but I honestly thought that was bullshit."

He gives her a vindicated glance as he starts to shuffle the cards. "It's true. She didn't believe me. I tried to tell her."

"Sadly, not bullshit," Dave says with a snicker before taking the bowl from Wyatt. "He went out with some chick in the Marketing Department sometime in May and didn't see her again. What did you tell me was wrong with her, Wyatt?" Dave snaps his fingers as he tries to remember. "She was…"

"Too agreeable," Denise finishes for him as she takes her seat next to Dave. "She agreed with everything he said. He didn't like that."

Lucy quirks a brow at him and smirks. "That makes a lot of sense, strangely enough. Do you actually _like_ fighting with me?"

"Over the simple stuff?" He asks her with a crooked smirk. "_Hell yes_."

She laughs and rolls her eyes at him. "You're so weird."

He shrugs and winks. "You love it."

She considers him for a beat before before she busies herself with organizing her chips. "I really do. You should be glad I'm just as weird as you."

"Eternally grateful, Professor," he tells her with a quiet chuckle. "What are we playing? Hold 'Em?"

Jess nods as she takes the bowl back from Denise and walks it over to the snack table. "That worked out better last time I think."

"You good with that?" He asks Lucy. "I'm not sure what experience you're playing with here."

She arches a perfect eyebrow at him and then rolls her eyes. "Just deal the damn cards, Logan."

His eyes and his grin widen at her challenging tone. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

Jess laughs and leans back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh, Lucy, I'm so happy you're here. You really are the best person to keep his ego in check."

Wyatt deals each person two cards and then Dave and Denise start the betting. Dave is the Little Blind and he throws in five. Denise is the Big Blind and throws in ten, and then it's up to Jessica to call or raise. All of their poker nights start safe so as Wyatt expected each person puts in 10. Dave throws in another five to call his first bet and then Denise checks. Wyatt places three face up cards in the middle of the table and carefully watches everyone's reactions.

Mason is always easy to read. The man may be shrewd when it comes to deals with other CEOs, but he cannot bluff. Rufus hates lying so his hand always shows on his face. Jiya on the other hand is a worthy opponent, but superstitious. She has a tell that she always tries and fails to hide. Emma never gives anything away. She's blank as a brick wall at all times. Jess can be, but typically takes her bluffing one step too far. Denise only shows emotion when she's frustrated with a slight wrinkle in her brow. Dave shakes his leg anxiously when he's got a bad hand. Once he's catalogued everyone else at the table, no signs of bad hands just yet, he turns his eyes to Lucy.

Her lips are pursed, but beyond that she hasn't moved a muscle.

They go back around to fold, call, or raise. Dave raises and everyone else calls. Wyatt puts another card face up.

This time the reactions are more dramatic from most of the table. Mason and Rufus have horrible hands, Wyatt sees it when they both grimace. Jiya tugs on her earlobe. Her hand isn't awful, but it's not great. She thinks she needs luck. She does that when she needs luck. Lucy again, doesn't move. Neither does Emma or Jess. Denise's brow wrinkles. Dave's leg bounces twice.

Dave checks, Denise folds, Jessica raises, Emma calls, Connor folds, Jiya calls, Rufus folds, and then…

Lucy folds.

His brow furrows. That's not what he expected. But okay. She catches his look and shrugs.

"I told you I'm not very good at this," she says with an awkward laugh.

He gives her a suspicious glance that she waves off and then he calls. The final card is placed face up and immediately Dave folds. Jess sighs and folds too. Emma raises. Jiya bites her bottom lip for a lingering minute and then folds. Wyatt calls.

Leaving Wyatt and Emma in stand off. They both place their cards on the table. Emma has a flush. It's a good hand but her face falls at the sight of Wyatt's cards. Four of a kind.

"Typical," Emma mutters with a shake of her head. "You just _barely_ edge me out."

Wyatt flashes the table a cocky grin as he pulls in the pot. "A win is a win, doesn't matter how narrow."

The next hand goes much the same way, except Lucy folds even earlier and more people use Five chips instead of Tens. Emma folds after the final card with most of the others, but Dave stays in. He should have folded. Wyatt's Straight Flush beats his Full House. Wyatt rakes in the pot again. The group's collective groan is music to his competitive ears.

The third hand is where his friends start to get brave. They've played it safe and lost and they seem to think they'll be losing their money to him anyway so why not take a few risks?

This time Dave starts with Twenty-Five, forcing Denise to throw in fifty. Everyone else at the table calls. After laying down the first three cards Dave raises another Twenty-Five. Denise and Jessica call. Emma raises a Hundred.

Everyone at the table simultaneously gasps.

"Damn, Whitmore," Dave says in horror. "What do you have in that hand?"

Connor folds. Jiya calls.

"Why the hell not?" She says with a resigned sigh. Rufus folds.

The table waits for Lucy to fold.

"I will see your hundred," Lucy says slowly and just as they think she's done she grabs a Twenty-Five chip. Eyebrows raise all over the table. "And raise you twenty-five."

"You sure you wanna do that, Luce?" Wyatt asks her in surprise.

"We all lose our chips at some point," she replies with disinterest. "Even the Great Wyatt Logan. Might as well go big or go home."

One side of his mouth curls up and he nods. "Okay, then I call."

The next card goes out and nearly everyone folds except himself, Lucy, and Emma. Emma raises them another fifty. Lucy and Wyatt both call. The last card goes down and Emma raises, but this time she plays it safe with a Five. Lucy raises another Five. Wyatt calls.

They lay their cards down all at once. Wyatt's mouth drops open at the sight of Lucy's hand.

Emma cackles louder than he's ever heard her and smirks. "Lucy, you just made losing totally worth it."

She laughs lightly and then turns a mischievous smile on Wyatt, feigning cluelessness in her tone. "What? Is that good?"

"You—you said you weren't very good at this!" Wyatt exclaims with an awed smile.

A proud grin overtakes her face as she motions to her hand. "Just because I have a Royal Flush doesn't mean I'm good at this. Maybe this was just luck?"

"No, you totally got all of us to let our guard down. If I thought you knew what you were doing I wouldn't have called," Wyatt teases her with rolling laugh. "You freaking know how to bluff!"

"It's more like I know how easy it is to underestimate me," Lucy replies as she smirks and straightens her neck. The change in posture gives her the look of a queen. Fierce and determined but cool headed and charming.

"Oh, believe me, that's never happening again," Wyatt says while he shakes his head and then leans over to kiss the crown of her head. "Jesus, Preston, you got me _good._" Whether he's a loser or not, _that's hot._

"That's what you get for asking me about my poker experience," she says with a fond look in her eyes. She playfully pats his cheek much harder than necessary, and then gleefully rakes in her pot. "And now the _real_ fun begins."

Denise snorts and gives Lucy an impressed once over. "Would anyone care if I gave all my chips to Lucy? I want to support this path to victory anyway I can."

"I'm down with that too," Rufus says eagerly. "My chips are wasted on me anyway. I never get a piece of the pot at the end of the night. At least this way, I'll get the satisfaction of seeing Wyatt Logan lose for once."

"This is a coup and it's unfair," Wyatt grumbles. "Emma, you can't let them do this, can you?"

Emma shrugs. Her lips barely twitch upward as she replies. "It's their twenty bucks, Logan. They can spend it however they want."

Lucy puts her elbow on the table and then rests her chin in her hand with a gloating expression. "With one hand I have completely changed the game. God, I'm good."

"You're infuriating," Wyatt tells her. Though he knows his enamored expression betrays his words completely.

"And don't you forget it," Lucy tells him. She places a quick pecking kiss on his closed mouth grin before she turns to pull Rufus's chips in with her own. Denise slides hers over too. His girlfriend hums to herself as she organizes her chips and then beams at both Rufus and Denise. "And you two are officially my favorites."

"Hey!" Dave says in an offended tone. "We bonded _first_. Or did you forget our burgers? I should be your favorite!"

Lucy considers him thoughtfully. After a moment, she bares her teeth at him in a beguiling smile. "Give me your chips and I'll think about it."

"Hell no!" Dave says with a bursting laugh. "Nice try, but I don't want to be your favorite _that _badly."

Lucy shrugs and chuckles. "Your loss."

Rufus fist bumps Lucy and then turns to his delighted face to Emma and Jessica. "You guys have popcorn, right? I'm pretty certain we're in for a show."

Rufus is right. It's one hell of a show. Turns out, Lucy spent those first hands observing behaviors and waiting for people to raise the stakes. Once her secret is out, she's ruthless. Wyatt is having a damn hard time making out her tell. She has to have one. Everyone does. But try as he might he cannot find it.

Since Denise and Rufus are out of chips, they begin asking Lucy questions about her work and her life. As more people run out of chips (Mason next, then Jiya) they join in.

By the time just he and Lucy remain, Wyatt knows more facts about Lucy than he did before. He knows her father's name, where she did her post-grad work, that she once thought about dropping out of school to be in a band, she's claustrophobic, she speaks French, has an addiction to poptarts, and ran track in high school.

And then the topic of Lucy's mother comes up. Denise has read all of Carol Preston's books, including the two Lucy and Carol co-authored. Both were apparently about the history of San Francisco.

"I read those two books much faster than all the others," Denise tells her. "Surprisingly fun reads. I love her books but they're normally a little dry. Not those two. I can assume that's your influence."

"Oh," Lucy says with a blush. "I don't know about that. Those were still basically mom's books. I helped with research and a quarter of the chapters. Would have been more but my mother is very particular about her content and some of my thoughts didn't cut it, I guess."

"Well, I think I enjoyed them more because of you and that most likely means I should read your books too. I think my wife gave me your Lincoln book for Mother's Day, actually. Haven't had a chance to dig into it yet," Denise states.

This conversation is distracting Wyatt while he tries to decipher if Lucy has a good hand. Her modesty combined with the flicker of pain at the mention of her mother has him wanting to assure her that the difference is most certainly _her_ but he can't because he hasn't read anything aside from her unfinished Judith Campbell book.

He should maybe fix that.

Also distracting him, is the fact the Lucy is idly and impressively shuffling her chips. She definitely hustled him in the first three hands. It's karma for underestimating her, he knows, but it's also undeniably sexy. She surprised him yet again. A part of him hopes she always will, but then another part can't wait to know her so well that nothing she does surprises him. It doesn't make sense to want both at once. But he does.

"Where did you learn to play poker like this, Professor?" Wyatt asks with a soft grin.

"My dad used to play with Amy and I every week. We'd bet household chores," Lucy admits with a laugh. "Mom still doesn't know we did that. And then when we got older, Amy and I decided to learn all we could about it. We both used it in college to wipe the floor with unsuspecting dude-bros and swindle them out of their weekly beer money." She stops and narrows her eyes at him. "Now quit stalling, Logan. What are you gonna do?"

He's no closer to judging her hand than he was before so with a reluctant sigh, he folds.

Lucy grins triumphantly and lays her cards on the table.

"Two pairs?" He asks in mock outrage. "All you had was two pairs? I could have beat that!"

She rakes in the pot with a victorious smile and points to his measly stack of chips. "You wanna just give me those now or…?"

He laughs and rubs a hand over his face. "Take 'em. Just take 'em. Christ you kicked my ass so badly. There was no mercy. No mercy at all."

"Mercy in poker or any game is for suckers," Lucy replies with a smirk. "I play to win."

Oh, she's definitely doing that. In more ways than one.

The group seems to be done with poker after that. Lucy declines to take the money from the pot, opting to give it back to everyone.

"Knocking his smug ass down a peg or two was reward enough," Lucy announces while taking her twenty dollars back and passing the bowl around.

"I'm glad humiliating me in front of my friends has more value to you than money," Wyatt replies sarcastically as takes his money and pockets it.

"Keep your twenty but lose your pride," Dave says through a snicker. "Lucy, you should come to every poker night. Keep things interesting."

"I would if I could, Bam-Bam," Lucy replies, grinning brightly. She bites her bottom lip and then shrugs slightly before leaning toward Wyatt's ear. "Maybe someday," she whispers, pressing her lips to his cheek with a swift kiss.

His head shoots up and his eyes find hers with an optimistic gaze. _Maybe someday_. Is she thinking about them too? Does she want to find a way to have _this_ beyond the weekends just as badly as he does?

Jess and Emma start to gather the glasses and dishes and empty beer bottles. Lucy rises to help them. They protest but Lucy waves them off and takes an armful of dishes from Jess. Denise takes advantage of Lucy's empty seat and moves to sit beside him.

"So, a lot seems to have happened while I've been working cases," Denise says with one raised brow. "Where did the charming Professor Preston come from?"

"Wyatt's vacation," Jiya answers with a smirk.

"To South Carolina?" Denise asks with surprise. "She used to teach at Stanford and somehow you met her on the other side of the country? Interesting. Seems a bit..._kismet_. How's it going? Is there an official status I should know about?"

"Lucy told Fi that she's Wyatt's girlfriend," Dave states as he slides an amused gaze to Wyatt. "And Wyatt looked a little too happy about that."

Wyatt rolls his eyes as his friends continue to talk about him as if he's not sitting right there.

"Ah, so it's serious," Denise says with an ecstatic grin.

He's thankful that Jess and Emma are busy so they can't spill those three little words. He'd like to keep those words between himself and Lucy for a little while. He wants to enjoy the intimacy of it for a bit longer.

"We're not seeing other people, if that's what you mean," Wyatt clarifies. "She lives in LA so it's challenging but so far we've been trying to alternate weekends."

"And she's here in the middle of the week because?" Rufus asks with a knowing grin.

Wyatt shrugs but can't stop his cocky smirk. "Woke up Monday morning and she said she wanted to stay for a little while. No way in hell I'm saying no to that."

"Once I tell Michelle about this you know what's going to happen, don't you?" Denise asks with a light laugh.

"Mustard Chicken?" Wyatt asks. "Dinner with you two and the kids? I'm guessing."

Denise nods. "Mustard Chicken. Michelle's going to be so pissed I met her first." Denise's hand squeezes his arm and she beams at him. "I'm very happy for you, Wyatt. You deserve this. Really."

He doesn't know about that. He hasn't done much to deserve Lucy Preston, but he _will_. He's not making the same mistakes all over again. He's not risking losing her. Never again.

"I don't yet," Wyatt corrects her. "But I'm damn sure gonna try."

* * *

Lucy, Emma, and Jess chat while they do dishes and clean up after the group. They don't discuss anything life altering, but it's enjoyable. It turns out that she and Jess both appreciate crappy reality tv. Emma, like Wyatt, considers it a waste of time. The symmetry between the two couples is surprising, but nice.

Emma leaves to help back cars out of their driveway, muttering about Rufus not knowing how to drive as she walks away.

Once she's gone Jess shakes her head and then gives Lucy a rueful smile.

"It seems I have a type, Luce," Jessica says as she accepts another dish to dry. "Strong and silent. Oh, and did I mention grumpy?"

Lucy chuckles and nods her agreement. "That certainly does describe both Wyatt and Emma. Though, Wyatt comes at that strength from a much softer place."

"Ah, you've discovered his warm gooey center then?" Jess asks with an amused grin.

She gives Jess a searching look, trying to decide what's too much information, but given what she and Wyatt overheard on the phone between Emma and Jess she feels like there isn't much of a line at all.

"He buttoned his shirt around me night before last, slowly and carefully, like I might break if he moved wrong," Lucy says with a wistful smile. "I mean, not even my ex-fiancé ever did that for me and I nearly married that jackass. I don't know, I guess it just opened my eyes to _how_ Wyatt loves."

Jess nods her understanding and takes a deep contemplative breath before she speaks. "Even in high school Wyatt loved with everything he had. He was trouble, I won't lie to you about that, but his love never was. His grandpa told me once that he suspected Wyatt was born with a heart about twice the size of the average person. It means he gives more love than one person knows what to do with but it also means he feels the bad things more keenly than one man can bare."

She looks sorrowful as she continues. Lucy can plainly make out regret shining in her eyes. "I always remembered that, but I didn't always use it the way Sherwin intended. I learned much too quickly that what makes Wyatt strong is also what makes him vulnerable and I used it against him. His dad does that too. He always has. I think—and you should know I hate myself for this—I think I'm one of the reasons he keeps everything locked up so tight. Sometimes, I think maybe I broke him more than he broke me. Not that he thinks that. As far as he's concerned he believes himself to be more at fault than me, but he's not. He never was. I did awful things, knowing that he would feel it more deeply — _because_ he would feel it more deeply."

Lucy stops washing the dishes to stare at Jessica in awe. Why is she telling her this? There's no reason for her to be so open and honest. Lucy can see unshed tears in Jessica's eyes and self loathing on her face. She rubs a hand over her eyes and smiles weakly at Lucy. Lucy can't help but let her eyes water to match Jessica's.

"I told you all of that, to say two things. One: take Sherwin's words to heart in the way I never did. Use it to support him instead of hurt him. Wyatt and I were always wrong for each other. We had a good few years when we were young but we should have seen that for what it was: _friendship_. And two: we shared a lot of firsts, me and him, and I guess we were both reluctant to let those go. But we should have. Maybe if we'd let go sooner, we'd have an easier time being open with the people we love _now_. Anything he keeps from you has nothing to do _with you_. It may feel that way, but it doesn't. He has no idea how secretive he is."

Every word she says nearly sounds like a plea. It sounds as if she's begging Lucy to understand Wyatt's value. The things is, she doesn't have to do that. Lucy understands his value, probably more than Wyatt himself.

"That's why I told you not to take it easy on him. I know I went about things with him all wrong, but Wyatt needs to be challenged. He's a bit hard headed, you know? He needs someone who's willing to confront him. Just...maybe don't do it as hatefully as I did," Jess advises with a sniffle and bitter chuckle. "My biggest regret is not understanding how to support someone back then. It took losing Wyatt for me to see how selfish I really was. I refuse to be that way with Emma. Emma's life has been just as rotten as Wyatt's and I won't make that worse. I want to make things better for her. Easier. I fight my worst self every day, but it's worth it for her. She inspires me to keep growing. As much as I cared about Wyatt, he never did that for me."

Emotions clog Lucy's throat as she processes Jessica's words. Her second to last sentence takes her back to the last time she saw her mother and the way Wyatt's words encouraged her or to confronting Jonas last night and how Wyatt's strength, even when she was annoyed by his interference, bolstered her from head to toe. She knows exactly what Jessica means.

"He—he does that for _me_," Lucy admits with a watery smile. "What you just said? He...inspires me to grow. I'd never thought about it that way until just now, but he does. I—I don't really know what to do with that right now."

Jess reaches out a hand and squeezes Lucy's arm. "You don't have to do anything with it right now. Just enjoy it. It's a good feeling."

Lucy nods and sniffles before turning back to the dishes. "And as for everything else you said? I heard you, and I'll try my absolute best to support him while not letting him take the easy way out. I'm not sure how to do that at this particular moment, but I'll figure it out if it means keeping him."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," Jess says as she picks the dish towel back up and holds out her hand for a dish. "I knew you were a fighter, Lucy Preston."

Lucy blushes and shakes her head modestly. "I'm not yet, but I will be."

Jess scoffs with a fond smile. "Please. You're a fighter. You may not see it but you are. If you weren't, you wouldn't get along so well with all of us. Everyone here tonight is waging some kind of war. It's why we stick together despite our differences." Jess nudges her shoulder and smirks at her. "And you're a part of that now too. Welcome to our almost-but-not-quite family."

Lucy can't stop the bright smile that overtakes her, lighting up her entire face. "Thank you."

Jess nods just as Wyatt enters the kitchen. He glances between them apprehensively, as if he's worried what they might have talked about while they were alone.

"Speak of the devil," Jess says. "It's Mr. Warm-Gooey-Center himself."

Lucy laughs and shakes her head at Wyatt's furrowed brow.

"Say what, now?" He asks in confusion.

"Ignore her," Lucy tells him as she wipes her hands on a dry towel. "Did you need something?"

"We're the last guests standing," he tells her. "Ready to go when you are."

"You're good," Jess says as she hip checks Lucy to push her away from the sink and then takes her place. "I've got it from here. Have a good night, you guys. Lucy, thanks for making poker night interesting. Don't be a stranger."

Lucy nods and smiles her thanks. "I'll try not to be."

They exchange a quick goodbye with Emma on their way out the door and then finally they're alone again and seated in Wyatt's car.

"So," Lucy says as she gives him a teasing smirk. "That went well, I think."

He lets out a loud booming laugh and then shakes his head at her with a amazed expression. "Well?" He asks incredulously. "That was so much better than 'well' and you know it. It's official and as I always feared. They like you better than me."

Lucy shakes her head with a warm smile. "No, they like me because you like me. They care about you, Wyatt. That's easy to see."

"And now they care about you too," he assures her as he starts the car. "Did you have fun?"

"Kicking your ass at poker? Hell yes, I did," She replies with a confident grin. "Oh, and yeah your friends were really great too."

"Uh huh, go ahead and brag. Enjoy it. It won't happen again," he says with a chuckle and half hearted glare. "I'll be ready for you next time."

"We'll see, Logan," She answers with a smirk. "But don't count on it."

Just the knowledge that they'll have a 'next time' thrills her. The possibility of a future with Wyatt is within her reach. They just need to talk about how to make that happen. She's feeling braver by the day, and it won't be long before she feels brave enough to bring it up. She has no intention of going back to L.A. without first discussing their options. She will not spend her life 400 miles away from him. Her heart will not tolerate the distance.

One way or another, they'll make it work. She's _certain_ of that — _of him_.

They make it back to his house and get ready for bed side by side, at the his and hers sinks in his bathroom. She thinks about Jess's words as she brushes her teeth and washes her face. Jess seems genuinely happy for Wyatt and at peace with how they ended. Wyatt's talked to her about Jess but she wonders…

She's rubbing lotion on her hands and settling back into the pillows when she finally gives voice to the question in her head.

"Does it ever bother you to see Jess with Emma?"

He thinks for a moment as he plugs his phone into his charger. "No. I mean, a little at first. It felt like a reminder of how I failed her, but it didn't take long to get passed that. Now, I'm just...glad that she's happy. She deserves to be happy and I think Emma is good for her. Granted, Emma's a bit of an acquired taste," Wyatt says with a chuckle as he slips under the covers next to Lucy. "But underneath all her self assured indifference is someone who really cares about Jess. I've seen it first hand. Emma's got a fierce protective streak. She also can't be manipulated which Jess needs. She tends to forget the line between persuasion and deception when she wants something. So, no, it doesn't bother me. They're a good fit and as long as Jess stays happy then I'm happy for her."

She nods slowly as she absorbs his answer.

He turns a worried gaze on her and reaches for her hand that sits on the bed between them. "Does seeing Jess bother _you_?"

She shakes her head and smiles softly. "No. If anything it's oddly comforting. I _know_ how truly good you are but seeing that the two of you are still friends reinforces my opinion. You know she wants the same for you, don't you?" Lucy asks. "She wants you to be happy and honestly believes you deserve it."

"Is that what you two were talking about tonight?" Wyatt asks curiously. She can see the bit of stress he feels in the tightness of his posture. Is he worried talking to Jess might put her off of him?

"Among other things," she replies with a nod. She squeezes his hand with a reassuring glance. "It was a really _good_ talk. Stop worrying."

"I just...I wasn't my best self with Jess," he admits with a sigh of relief. "I know she and I have talked about it extensively since we decided to separate but every now and then I'm afraid there's still some lingering resentment there."

"There's not," Lucy tells him. She meets his eyes and holds them, hoping he sees the wholehearted truth of it in her eyes. Jess was clear tonight. There's nothing for him to torture himself over. Jessica's made her peace and moved on. Though she does seem to harbor similar fears to Wyatt's. "In fact, she seems to think you take on too much responsibility for what happened. She worries you might let it hold you back. You were right the first time we talked about it. You and Jess are ridiculously similar, taste in television aside."

He smirks slightly at that. "You really don't mind that Jess and I are still friends? Because Emma said something the other day to Jess that surprised her and I don't want you to think you couldn't tell me if you did mind—"

She rolls into his side with a resigned sigh and a tired chuckle. Her hand runs along his cheek to pull his eyes to hers. "I promise you, Wyatt, I _don't_ mind. I like Jess. I really do. But if anything ever bothers me about it then I'll tell you. I told you I would start telling you how I feel and that includes whatever I feel about Jessica. But right now I have no issues with her still being in your life."

His arms come around her as he visibly relaxes. "Okay, good. I want you to be comfortable, Luce." He kisses her temple, leaving his lips there as he goes on. "I know I said I want Jess to be happy, but I want you to be happy too. I _need_ you to be happy. Because if you're not happy then there's no way for me to be happy either. My happiness is completely dependent on yours, ma'am."

"Then you should be blissfully happy right now," Lucy tells him as she turns her face up and catches his lips for a slow kiss. "I certainly am."

He presses his forehead to hers and smirks against her lips before pulling back to speak. "That figures. You swindled my ass at poker, babydoll."

She laughs and winks at him while her arms slip around his neck. "Get used to it, Sweetheart. Tonight won't be the last time that happens."

"I sure as hell hope not," he says seriously with a contented sigh. "I liked having everyone I care about in one room tonight. It felt good."

Her eyes mist over at the satisfaction in his eyes. He deserves every bit of the overwhelming joy she sees in his stare right now. He should feel incomprehensibly loved. The fact that he spent most of his life feeling like he would never have that seems like the ultimate injustice. She's grateful that she gets to be one of the few people in the world that he trusts implicitly. She has the privilege of proving to him that he is loved deeply and unconditionally and she will not take that lightly.

"I'm glad," she tells him, kissing the corner of his mouth affectionately. "Hopefully we can make that happen more often. I like being a part of that everyone you care about."

"Good," he says while nudging her nose with his. "Cause that's not changing anytime soon, Professor. I doubt you'll ever be rid of me."

"I would never want to be," she responds before she finally pulls his lips to hers for a thorough kiss. She's been wanting to kiss him like this all night long, and she's not wasting the chance.

Considering how quickly he has her pajamas strewn across the room, he's not wasting any chances either.

It's funny how the right person can make Wednesday feel like Friday. She's knows it's not the weekend. It's not even the first time she's seen him all week, but each kiss and caress is filled with that same kind of yearning that comes with absence. She wonders if distance ever had anything to do with how badly she wants him. Somehow she thinks it's never been the distance.

It's always been him.


	13. 12 Only Human

**A/N: **So, I just finished THIS ENTIRE FIC. I finished the epilogue about half an hour ago. This story will have a prologue, 16 chapters, and an epilogue. So to celebrate FINISHING THIS BABY I'm posting chapter 12!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Only Human

* * *

"I don't want this night to end,

It's closing time so leave with me again,

You've got all my love to spend,

Let's find the place where happiness begins,

We gon' dance in my living room,

Slave to the way you move, hurts when I'm leaving you,

Just dance in the living room, love with an attitude,

Drunk to my lady's groove.

We gon' dance in my living room,

Slave to the way you move, hurts when I'm leaving you,

Dance in the living room, love with an attitude,

Drunk.

It's only human, you know that it's real.

So, why would you fight or try to deny the way that you feel?"

-"Only Human" by the Jonas Brothers

* * *

Thursday morning Lucy doesn't even stir when he gets out of bed. He's exhausted too. They wore each other out last night. He takes a shower and dresses, all the while Lucy is dead to the world. His amused eyes find her peacefully sleeping form every chance they get. He wonders what would have to happen for her to wake up when she's this far gone.

He slips downstairs and makes them both coffees. He makes his in the Stanford travel mug she gave him after he visited L.A. that first time. He's used it every morning since. He doubts she knows that. He's a sap and the cup always makes him think of her. He can't bring himself to use another cup. He leaves his in the kitchen, knowing he'll be back for it and then takes hers back to his room.

He sets her mug down on his nightstand and then leans over her. He kisses her forehead and shakes her very gently.

"Morning, Professor."

She groans tiredly and peers at him through squinted eyes. "No," she says with a whine. "It can't be morning already."

He laughs quietly and nods. "Unfortunately, but you don't have to get up," he assures her. "Just didn't want you to wake up and find me gone. I'm leaving for the office. I left you a coffee on the nightstand if you want it, alright?"

She yawns and stretches with closed eyes, arms over her head while her back arches up. The sheet drops from around her, giving him a fresh peek at just how good she looks naked and in his bed. She opens one eye and focuses it on him. When the other eye opens, her stare drags over him. Stopping over his crisp white button up and blue tie.

"Your tie matches your eyes," she says as she absently licks her lips.

He's learned by now what's coming after she licks her chops like that. He straightens up quickly with his hands out in front of him. "Hey, no. Not this morning, ma'am. I have an early meeting that I can't be late for."

She hums thoughtfully and then pulls herself across the mattress. Her hands latch on to his tie to keep him from backing away. "What if I promise to make it quick?"

He shakes his head and smirks knowingly at her. "Even our version of quick isn't quick. You make me lose track of time, and I'm running behind as it is thanks to last night."

She rises up on her knees and then presses her bare chest to his clothed one. Her hands slowly follow the tie up his chest and over his shoulders until her arms wind around his neck. _Jesus, _this is unfair.

"Come on," she says with an inviting grin. "You won't even have to take off your tie."

"Lucy…" he says in warning. He can already feel all his blood rushing to the _wrong_ place.

"Fine," she says primly. "But you can't leave without a good morning kiss. That's against the rules."

"What rules?" He asks with a playful glare. "We don't have any rules."

"We do," she says with a nod. "I just haven't told you about them yet. Well, really just the one rule. No leaving without a good morning kiss. I feel like that's a pretty reasonable request, Wyatt."

He quirks a brow and tries to hold back a grin. "When you're naked in my bed a kiss isn't a request. It's a _trap_."

She gasps dramatically and feigns offense. "How dare you. I would _never_."

He makes a noise that's a combination sigh and chuckle and shakes his head again. She's too smart for him, and she knows exactly what she does to him.

"The longer you resist, the later you'll be," she practically sings. She's beaming at him with an already victorious smile. She knows she has him beat.

"I can't believe I'm letting you get away with this," he tells her. But he's sure his grin contradicts his admonishing words.

She lets out a rare giggle and runs her hands through the hair at the base of his neck. "I'm ready. Lay it on me, Logan."

Lay it on her, he does. She gives as good as she gets, though, and as he predicted quick _isn't_ quick. She does follow through with her promise to leave his tie on, meaning getting dressed after takes barely five minutes. Her kisses remove him from the real world. They always have, dating back to that first elevator kiss. When he finally manages to untangle himself from her and the sheets, she throws on his favorite t-shirt and follows him.

He's not sure what mood she woke up in but he's all for it. She kisses him down the hall, through the living room, and all the way to the garage. He comes very close to giving up and calling in sick, but he wasn't lying before. He actually does have an important meeting this morning. If he hurries he can just barely make it on time.

She stands in the doorway that leads from the kitchen to the garage and waves coyly as he backs out of the drive. He can't decide if she's _purposefully_ taunting him with everything he'll be missing while he's at work. Part of him thinks so but another part of him thinks they both know the week is winding down and they're grabbing every moment they can.

He walks in the conference room door barely five minutes late. Thankfully, Dave was doing a competent job covering for him. Dave gives him a knowing smirk as he steps aside to let Wyatt lead the meeting. It's no coincidence that he's late during the week Lucy's staying with him and both he and Dave know it.

When the meeting's over, Dave follows him to his office with a chuckle.

"Lucy still enjoying the spoils of her victory last night?"

"Let's just say she woke up in an extremely good mood this morning," Wyatt replies, grinning.

"I bet," Dave says through a snort.

"Is this really happening?" Wyatt asks Dave as the disbelief hits him again. "I mean, last night went as well as I thought it did, right? My friends and my girlfriend spent a whole evening together and still like each other?"

"Were you expecting it to go badly?" Dave asks.

"I don't know. Things have just seemed very one step forward, one step back with me and Lucy so far. Last night felt like several steps forward and so far there hasn't been a step back. I think it's that whole prepare for the worst, hope for the best thing. It's not that I expected it to go badly but I was prepared for it just in case," Wyatt answers as he sits down behind his desk.

"Cautiously optimistic," Dave clarifies. "That makes sense. But take it from me, one of the people you were worried about, last night went exceptionally well. She fits in the group, man. Everybody liked her, even Emma. How did _she_ feel about it?"

"Great," he says while smiling broadly. "Apparently she and Jess had a good talk? I think she didn't tell me much about it out of respect for Jess, but it brought on an interesting discussion when we got home last night. A positive one."

"You guys talked about bridging the distance yet?" Dave asks with a quirked brow.

"Not yet," he says as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. "Last weekend was bumpy for us. We worked it out, but I'm just trying to enjoy the high of that for a little while. I'm sure I'll bring it up before she goes back to L.A."

"You'd better," Dave says sternly. "Don't let it go too much longer."

It's good advice. Advice that he knows he should take. Maybe over dinner tonight.

The rest of the day passes slowly. He loves his job, but it's safe to say he loves Lucy more so trying to finish his day knowing she's waiting on him at home is painful. He does eventually make it back home and Lucy is still flying high on her good mood. She's had a productive day of writing on top of that so she's practically buzzing when he finds her in her spot on the window seat.

"Let's go out," she says brightly while she attacks him with a bone crushing and enthusiastic welcome home hug. "I'll treat. Somewhere nice. Wait! I know just the place."

He's caught in Hurricane Lucy and there's no way he's saying no. He does convince her to go fifty-fifty on the meal, though. She directs him to a restaurant he's never been to before. It's a steakhouse. She eagerly drags him inside where they see a hostess for a table.

Once they're seated in a small corner booth, she scoots closer to him and takes his hand.

"This was my dad's favorite place," she reveals with a nostalgic smile. "We used to come here every father's day and for his birthday. I haven't been here in ages."

She's mentioned her father a few times now and every time warmth radiates off of her. She doesn't have a positive relationship with her mother but her father must have been different. He knows her father passed, but she's never said when or how.

"What was he like?" Wyatt asks. "Your dad?"

She chuckles and thinks for a moment before she answers him. "The complete opposite of my mother. Unfailingly supportive. Always there, whether we needed him or not. The _worst_ at jokes. I mean truly horrible at them. He would get the punchline all twisted around. You laughed more at him trying to tell the joke then the actual joke. He was, though, the _best_ at puns. Where mom was like this distant superhero, dad was approachable and warm." She drifts off for a moment and hears a soft sniffle.

He's quick to squeeze her hand and wrap an arm around her shoulders. The smile she gives him is open but a little sad.

"I don't think a day goes by that I don't miss him. He made us a family and when he died our family went with him. Mom was never the same after that. I think he made her less severe. He made sure she lightened up, but with him gone she had no one to do that for her so she just...dove into work. And later, she buried herself in trying to mold me in her image."

She takes a deep breath and leans into his side. He asked one question and he's a little thunder struck at the result. She's laying it all out there for him. He's jealous of her easy ability to be vulnerable.

"As bad as it was for me, it was worse for Amy. She was eleven. She went into her most impressionable years with just mom, and mom was less than interested in the things Amy liked. I spent more time with her in high school than my actual classmates simply because I felt like she needed someone. But I'm glad for it. If it weren't for that, I don't think we'd be as close as we are." When she finishes she lets out a shaky breath and sweeps her head from side to side. "I really didn't mean to say _all of that_. I'm sorry."

"No. No apologies. I told you a while back that If you want to tell me then I want to hear it and that's still true," Wyatt assures her. "And, for the record, your dad sounds great. I think I would have liked him."

"I hope you would have. I know he would have liked you," Lucy says with a broad smile.

"Yeah? Why do you think that?" He asks curiously.

"Because he always told us to find someone who would make us happy and you make me very happy," she confesses as she closes the distance between them for a sweet chaste kiss. "For that alone, he would have loved you as much as I do."

His heart fills to the brim with unending affection for her the second the words leave her mouth. How could he have gone his whole life without her? It seems unfair that the only family they have left for the other to meet is less than desirable. He's known one thing from the moment they met. It lingered just under the surface of his other thoughts every time he looked at her. From the minute she told him she thought his chosen endearment of "babydoll" was infantile.

"My grandpa would have adored you," he says with a chuckle. "He would have called you a spitfire and told me I'd be crazy to let you get away. He had a thing for feisty women."

"Oh really?" Lucy asks with a proud grin.

He nods. "My grandmother being the feistiest."

"Oh, I see," she replies with a laugh. "He liked women who reminded him of her."

"That he did, and you remind me of _her_ so I know he would have been crazy about you," he admits.

Lucy looks pleasantly surprised and blushes lightly. "I remind you of your grandmother?"

"She had patience, compassion, and forgiveness in spades," Wyatt informs her. "All things you also have. Plus, the attitude. Yeah, you definitely remind me of her."

The waiter comes over and asks for their drinks and appetizers and leaves again. They take a moment to decide on their entrees so they'll know when he comes back, but their conversation doesn't stall.

"Tell me about your Grandfather," Lucy requests softly.

"What do you want to know?" He asks.

"Whatever you feel like sharing," she replies with a kind smile. "No pressure, Wyatt. I could be small, it could be huge. Whatever you want."

He says the first thing that comes to mind. "I enlisted because of him."

She doesn't look surprised. "That first morning we spent together, you said something about overcoming fear by trying to make the people you care about proud. I thought then that you were talking about someone specific," she admits. "So, that makes sense."

She remembers what he said the first morning they woke up together? He's touched their conversation about fear stuck with her. It stuck with him too.

"I wanted to do something important. Something that would matter. I could have stayed in Texas probably become a mechanic but that would have been too easy. I wanted a challenge," Wyatt tells her. "My whole life he told me stories about fighting Nazis and saving the world from war. The man would rather cut himself shaving than read any classic literature but he would wax poetic about the guys he served with and the pride he felt to fight for people who couldn't fight for themselves. It stuck with me. The only subject that interested me in school was history, especially when we talked about military history. That was all because of him. So, yeah, when it came time to figure out what I was going to do with my life, that felt _right_ and it had the added bonus of making him so damn proud. My dad didn't give a shit, but Sherwin...Sherwin liked to brag."

Wyatt can feel water gathering in his eyes as he remembers his grandfather's face the day he told him he joined up. It's a memory Wyatt will cherish for as long as he lives.

"He helped me find a purpose — a positive contribution I could make in the world. I don't know exactly what I would be without him but I know I'd be miserable," He says as he meets Lucy's eyes. Her eyes are as watery as his own. She can tell exactly what Sherwin meant to him. She feels it with him. "Just wish he could have seen where I ended up. He would have been tickled pink about Delta Force."

"I'm sure he is," Lucy says comfortingly. "I'm a firm believe that the people we love never really leave us. So, he knows. Where ever he is."

He's never been religious but, as with most things, if Lucy says it then he believes it. She always says what she thinks with such conviction. In fact, he stops to gives himself a moment to take in his surroundings and when he does he finds he almost feels as if Sherwin's right there with him. As if he's sitting next to him, enjoying Lucy's supportive smile just as much as Wyatt.

"Well," Lucy says with a soggy chuckle. "Now that we're both crying, let's change the subject."

He lets out a muted laugh and then leans forward to kiss her temple. "Thanks for listening, ma'am."

"Anytime, Soldier," she replies with a contented sigh.

The waiter comes back with their drinks and the appetizer they ordered. They put in their order for their entrees. He goes away again and conversation moves on.

"How's the book going?" Wyatt asks.

"Good! I'm on the last chapter which is a relief. That should give me enough time to give it to my editor for at least one proofread before the semester starts," Lucy replies with a relieved exhale.

Speaking of the semester, now would be a good time to ask what happens when her classes start back. Just as he's about to fire away, Lucy gasps and hides her face in his shoulder.

It's so similar to her reaction to Jonas that he assumes the dickwad is sharing their space again. His arm tenses around her and somehow she _knows _what he's thinking.

"No," she whispers. "Not Jonas. My—my mother. She just walked in. Oh god, I cannot do this with her tonight. Not after Jonas two nights ago."

"Which way did the hostess take them?" Wyatt asks.

"Right in my line of sight," Lucy says with a groan.

His corner faces away from that direction. It would hide Lucy from view. He stands and steps out of the booth. "Slide over," he tells her. "Take my spot."

She understands what he's doing and the relief that floods her body is palpable. She does as he asks and then he takes her spot. There's no reason her mother will recognize _him_.

"Thank you," she says gratefully. "I know I must seem like a big chicken but this week isn't about her or my past. It's about us and honestly Jonas was enough humiliation for one week."

"Professor, trust me when I tell you I do _not_ think you're a chicken. I get it," he encourages. "If my dad were to walk through that door right now I would duck under this table so fast you'd barely see it."

She sighs tiredly and gives him a wan smile. "That makes me feel better and yet also very sad."

His resulting chuckle is soft and muffled against her lips as he swoops in for a quick kiss. "It'll be fine," he tells her. "We'll just lay low and mind our own business."

"Ugh," she says with a miserable noise he can't label. "This is why I've been avoiding Palo Alto and Stanford and San Francisco. The risk of running into her or Jonas is unbearable. Or it was—until you. I risk it for you. But the minute we leave your house I feel anxiety crawling under my skin — like I should be looking over my shoulder."

His heart sinks at that admission. Any hope he has of her moving back to San Francisco evaporates. Los Angeles it is then. Maybe he can run security for Mason from the new L.A. office? Make the occasional day trip to Palo Alto for meetings? Or do video conferences? People do that kind of thing all the time now, right? It will be hard, at first, leaving his friends, but it doesn't mean he won't ever see them. Holidays and the occasional weekend wouldn't be out of the question.

"Wyatt? Earth to Wyatt?"

He shakes himself out of his spiraling plans and blinks at her. "Sorry! What did you say?"

"Are you okay?" Lucy asks with a furrowed brow.

"Oh! Yeah, fine. I didn't mean to space out."

"Don't worry about it," she says dismissively. "You're sure you're okay?"

He nods and then brings her hand to his lips. "Never better."

Lucy is cagey for the rest of dinner. Her deliriously good mood from earlier has died and what remains is paranoid glances around the dining room as if she expects her mother to pounce on them at any moment. She doesn't. When they finish eating and they've paid the bill, Wyatt tips the waiter a little extra so he'll lead them out the back entrance which is in the opposite direction of Carol Preston.

"How you doing over there, Luce?" He asks as they walk toward his car, hand in hand.

"Disappointed in myself, mostly. For hiding," she says with a sigh. "I wish I could just _not _care. I mean, I _know_ I'll have to face her again someday. It's inevitable." She briefly goes quiet before she whispers one final word. "_Inescapable_."

"What do you think's going to happen when that time comes?" He asks rhetorically. He powers through to keep her from answering him. He knows what she's afraid will happen, but _he also knows_ it won't. "Do you think she's going to say some magic spell that puts you back in her sway? Lucy, you know what you want now and who you are. Just because you'll have to face her, doesn't mean she'll win. You're stubborn as hell, ma'am. She can't make you do anything you don't want to do."

"She knows all my weaknesses, Wyatt. She's been using them against me as far back as I can remember," Lucy says sadly.

"Yeah, and now you know that. You're wise to whatever game she's playing. The next time won't be like all the other times. You see her for what she is now. You can move on," he says as he squeezes her hand and then pulls her into his side with an arm around her shoulders. "Nothing ahead but the open road."

"An open road," Lucy says with a contemplative expression. "That sounds nice. Like freedom."

"You're not trapped, Lucy," he assures her. "Maybe it feels that way to you, but you're not. You've stood up to her twice already. You can do it again — and again, and again until whatever she thinks of you never even crosses your mind. If you can rip Jonas the Jagoff a new one as savagely as you did the other night then you can handle your mother." He kisses the top of her head and hugs her to him. "I believe in you."

She huffs out a hopeless breath and rests her head on his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad someone does."

He bites back his own tired sigh as they reach his car. He's not sure what to say. She's so down that he doesn't think anything will encourage her right now. The fact of the matter is, she's stronger than she knows. He can't make her see that. She has to discover that for herself.

She's quiet on the ride home, but she doesn't shrink away from him. Her hand stays put on his thigh even while she stares forlornly out the passenger side window. She's so wrapped up in her thoughts that she doesn't see the idiot who tries to merge over into the lane with Wyatt _right next to him_. Wyatt suddenly swerves over into the empty lane, curses, and honks at the negligent driver in the neighboring lane.

Lucy jumps out of her skin. She yelps as her head hits the low ceiling of his car and the seat belt digs into her chest.

"_Jesus_," Wyatt says as he looks over at her worriedly. "Are you okay?"

She doesn't answer him. She's gone rigid and silent. Her eyes are unfocused and her breathing is labored. _Shit._

"Lucy?" Wyatt asks tentatively.

It isn't until her hands start clawing at her chest that he realizes what's happening. She's full on panicking in his passenger seat. Her face has gone ashen and even in the dark of the night he can tell her lips are a little blue.

Dread. There's a solid ball of _dread_ in his gut.

"Fuck, okay, hold on. I'm pulling over. Breathe, Professor. You gotta _breathe_ for me, okay?"

He miraculously manages to find enough shoulder to pull off the road. He's out of the car and running to the passenger side as fast as he can. When he opens her door and undoes her seat belt he gets his first good look at her in the street lights. She's _terrified_ and not completely present. He knows exactly what this is and it's not your average panic attack.

He grabs her face and places himself directly in her line of vision, kneeling next to the car.

"Lucy, we're okay," he says soothingly. "Nothing happened. An idiot just swerved into our lane. You're not in danger, you're not hurt. You have to _breathe _or you'll pass out_._"

She takes in one deep ragged breath and his heart unclenches.

"Good, that's good. Okay, now breathe out."

It comes out thin and shaky but at least it comes out.

He nods and then breathes in again. Holding her gaze and hoping she'll mimic him. He keeps that process going until her color returns and her lips look like their normal shade of dusty pink.

The minute she's breathing normally she lets out a shuddering sob and nearly falls out of the seat. He catches her and sinks down on the ground with her craddled in his lap. He presses his lips to her forehead and keeps them there as he whispers heartfelt words and runs his fingers through her hair. She's holding onto him desperately. She's not locked up in panic anymore, but this moment is still gut wrenching. He has no idea where she went or what memory was triggered that trapped her in her own mind. But something did.

Something awful.

Something she probably avoids thinking about at all costs.

She composes herself just enough to lift herself off his lap and stand on shaky legs. He stands with her, bracing her with his arms just in case.

"I—we can't stay here," she tells him on a wobbly breath. "We...we should go."

"Are you sure?" He asks in concern. "Are you okay to get back in the car?"

"I have to be. I'm not staying out here on the side of the road looking like a basketcase," she says as her expression begins to crumple.

"Luce," he says as he sucks in a wince. "You're not a basketca—"

"_Please_, Wyatt. Let's just go home."

He swallows back the rest of his sentence, drops a kiss to the crown of her head, and nods. He waits for her to settle herself, uneasily, in the passenger seat and shuts the door as gently as possible. While driving, he's hyper aware of Lucy's reaction to every turn, lane change, or other car. She tenses at every tiny movement.

Once the car is parked in the garage, she bolts out of it and waits by the locked door that leads to his kitchen. He hopes it's the car she's trying to get away from and not _him_.

The minute they get inside she throws her bag down on the kitchen counter and grabs an open bottle of wine from his fridge. He starts to reach for a glass but it turns out to not be necessary. Lucy would much rather take a swig directly from the bottle.

She's had a third gulping sip before he decides to intervene.

"Alright, slow it down," he says with a furrowed brow, reaching for the bottle.

She reluctantly lets him take it and then runs a trembling hand through her hair.

"I'm sorry," she says, breathing slowly and deliberately. "I know I scared you."

"The last thing I want right now is an apology," Wyatt tells her with a huff. She apologizes entirely too much. Did her mother instill that in her? He sincerely hopes he never has a chance to be face to face with Carol Preston. "You scared me, yes, but it's not as though you could help it. What happened?"

"The other night at poker, do you remember me saying I'm claustrophobic?" She asks in a small voice.

He nods. "Yes, I do."

"I haven't always been that way." She sniffles and toes off her heels, leaning against his kitchen counter for support. "I was in an accident in college. A car accident. There was an oil slick and I ran off the road...into a lake."

He sets the wine bottle aside and takes several steps closer as she continues to explain. _Holy shit._ The way she starts the story tells him this isn't going to be your average accident. This is no fender bender.

"I haven't had an attack like that in a very long time," she says as her eyes visibly water. "I—I was already feeling metaphorically claustrophobic thanks to the near run in with my mother and then when the car swerved and the seatbelt constricted—all of a sudden I was feeling _actually_ claustrophobic." She rests one hand on her forehead and another on her chest, trying to continue to breathe. "And then I was back there again. The—the water was rising up my legs and the door was j-jammed and then the seatbelt…**.**" Her sentence fades as her hand motions across her chest.

Her breathing becomes thin again, as if she's sucking through a straw. There's nothing that can stop him from pulling her into his arms. Her tears are falling freely now and he needs to have her close. He's also hoping having her against his chest as it rises and falls in even breaths will keep her from spiraling any further into more panic. There's a lingering beat of silence where only the sounds of her breathing and sniffling echo in his kitchen. Once she's calm again, she continues.

"I couldn't get out of the car. I _tried_. I really tried. The water was up to my chin and, just as I took what I was convinced would be my very last breath, the window was broken, my seatbelt was cut and someone was pulling me out." Her arms wrap around him, firmly, as she seeks any strength he can offer. "A stranger just happened to stumble across me. He jumped in and pulled me out. I—I shouldn't be here right now. If not for him I wouldn't be. It's amazing that there was another person out there at all. It was _late_ and no one knew I was coming home to see mom. If he hadn't shown up then no one would have noticed I was missing for several more hours."

"Right place, right time," Wyatt says as he rubs his hands over her arms, comfortingly.

"I feel like it was more than that," she says quietly. "I was about to do something impulsive and I think some higher power was course correcting me. Or maybe just testing me."

Something impulsive? _Oh_. One of the other things that came out at poker night, maybe?

"Was that...was that when you nearly dropped out to tour with a band?" She nods weakly but he can't help his grin. Imagining a nervous Lucy Preston, driving home to defy her mother has him envisioning her practicing a speech while she drives. It's cute, but also likely the reason she never saw the oil slick. "You were driving home to tell your mom you were dropping out."

"Which never happened because of the accident. Mom showed up at the hospital to pick me up and started scolding me for driving so late and not paying close enough attention to the road. In the middle of all of it, she called me foolish and I realized that's exactly what I was being," she admits with a muted sigh. He reads more of that disappointment in herself from earlier that evening in her eyes. "I worked my entire life to get to undergrad at UCLA and I had a whole plan ahead of me. I couldn't give up in the middle of phase one. That would be rash and impractical, and Prestons are neither of those things. And then I thought, if history was meant to happen exactly as it happened then the accident was a key part of _my_ history." She pulls back to meet his gaze, looking frustrated with her younger self, and he sees the history lecture coming. "Like how Washington was meant to get dysentery and be left behind before the Battle of Monongahela. If he hadn't been late to the battle, he likely would have never rallied the troops and saved his reputation."

Wyatt narrows his eyes thoughtfully at her with a warm smile. "The French and Indian War, right?"

"Right," she says with an impressed glance. Her lips part just slightly and her eyes darken minutely. "You weren't kidding, you _do_ know your military history."

"Washington was the soldier of soldiers. It's hard not to pay attention to that kind of military career," Wyatt replies sheepishly. "So, in your mind the accident was your bought of dysentery?"

"Figuratively speaking, yes," she answers with a grimace. "At least that's what I told myself at the time. Now I see it for what it was."

"And what do you see it as?"

"Letting my mother steamroll me, like I always do."

No, she doesn't _always _do that, but making Lucy believe that is near impossible. The way she sees herself is so ingrained that it will take a damn good argument to change it.

And he _might_ have one.

"Okay, but what if it wasn't pre-ordained?" He asks. "What if it was just a series of choices? I mean the accident could have just as easily pushed you in the other direction, couldn't it?"

"I suppose," she says with a skeptical expression.

"What if your mother's opinion of you had less to do with your decision than you think?" He hates the way she remembers being called foolish or the way she seems to think occasionally being rash and impractical is patently wrong. He knew she'd been young at the time and still very much under the influence of her mother, but that stuck with her for a reason.

"What do you mean?" Lucy asks, confused.

"If you really wanted to pursue music, you would have," he tells her. "You would have fought for it or found some other way to pursue it. Even back then. But you didn't. So maybe choosing history wasn't about your mother or whatever bullshit plan she had for you. Maybe it was about _you_."

He can't imagine a world where Lucy Preston doesn't gush about Judith Campbell or George Washington. She glows when she talks about history. It's one of the many things he loves about her.

"I've seen you talk about it, Professor. Just a second ago, in fact. You _love_ history. Even I can see that you truly feel it's your purpose. Just because you didn't stick to your plan to drop out doesn't mean you caved to your mother's whim. Maybe it seemed like that at the time, but wanting the same thing as your mother, even for a short while, doesn't mean you let her dictate every choice you made."

"You're saying…**.**" She looks at him expectantly as if she truly doesn't understand where he's going with any of this.

He sighs and targets her with a a resigned but mirthful stare. He grips her chin, tenderly, and runs his thumb across her bottom lip. The confounded look on her face makes him want to kiss her more than it probably should.

"I'm saying, you've been writing your _own_ _story_ all along. You just didn't know it."

He can tell the thought that she might have chosen history for herself never once occurred to her. Her face pinches, very slightly, and her eyes bore into his.

"You really think so?" She asks.

He shrugs. "It's not about what I think. It's about what you think. But, consider this, you could have gone after both dreams at once. You are more than capable of multitasking. But you didn't. You focused everything you had on history. All you've done, all you've accomplished, would you trade it to go back and go on that tour?"

"No, never," Lucy replies immediately.

"Then I think you have your answer."

"How have I never considered that?" She asks him with a bewildered face.

He chuckles. "Because you're Lucy Preston and you don't see how truly amazing you actually are. It's cute and a _little_ frustrating. That's alright, though, I'm happy to keep reminding you whenever you need it." This time he gives in to his urge to kiss her, but keeps it brief. "And as for the accident itself. You weren't _foolish_. You had an important decision to make and you wanted to talk to someone _important to you_. Accidents happen. That's why they're called _accidents_. You made it through it, Luce. You walked away from it and then became the resilient woman you are now. _That's _what matters. Those are the facts. Don't let your mother twist them around on you."

"You honestly believe that, when I run into her again, I can stand up to her?"

He presses his forehead to hers and nods. "You already have, ma'am. You told me all about it."

"Yeah, but afterwards she—"

"She pressed an obvious button. It was a low blow, sure, but did you cave? Did it make you change your mind?"

"...no."

"Then whatever she said afterward doesn't matter. Her _opinion_ on your life doesn't matter. Not as long as you're happy with your choices," Wyatt assures her. He takes a deep nervous breath, calming his own nerves as he asks his next question. "Are you..._happy_?"

She doesn't answer. Instead she pulls him in for a whopper of a kiss. She extends onto her toes to get a better grip around his shoulders and deepen it. He decides to help her out and lifts her to sit on his kitchen counter. When they finally pull apart her face is flushed, her pupils are blown, and her lips are swollen.

"Yes," she answers confidently with a blinding smile. "I'm happy, Wyatt. I'm happier than I've ever been."

He releases a relieved breath he didn't know he was holding and beams back at her. "Me too."

Her hands idly card through his hair as he stands between her knees. She bites her bottom lip and then locks her hungry gaze onto his.

"This is cozy," she says while she wraps her legs around him.

"Are you getting ideas, Professor?"

She laughs softly and then bumps her nose against his. "When it comes to you, I _always_ have ideas."

"Care to share them with me?" He asks as he trails his hands up the outside of her thighs.

"I think I would rather you try and guess," she answers with a dangerous twinkle in her brown eyes. "Let's see if you're as good at reading my thoughts as I think you are."

Oh, he can think of a few worthwhile guesses. Starting with removing her dress and ending with him having her right here on the kitchen counter. In the end, he assumes he guesses correctly. She's a little too dazed and sated to tell him otherwise.

He drops a kiss to her shoulder as she leans into him to catch her breath. "We very rarely seem to make it to the bed."

"We made it to the bed this morning," she counters, drowsily.

"Try again. That doesn't count," he says as he playfully squeezes her waist.

"Why not?"

"Because we were already there. Or _you were_, at least."

"I mean, if you'd rather not have me in every room of your house then—"

"Woah, hey, that is _not _what I'm saying," he says quickly, reversing course.

She lets out an adorable sunny laugh and softly caresses her hands up and down his back. "Good, because I was thinking we'd try the office tomorrow night."

"Jesus, I love you and your brilliant brain," he replies as he thinks about her spread across the window seat with her laptop on her thighs. That image has always appealed to him, but laying her down on that window seat, with his weight against her, also sounds pretty damn appealing.

"I love you too," she replies, turning her head slightly to place a few kisses to his jawline. "I'm assuming that's a yes?"

"Hell yes, it's a date. I'll meet you at the window seat after I get home from work tomorrow," he answers eagerly.

She giggles before gently biting his ear. "It seems I'm not the only one with _ideas_."


	14. 13 I Believe

**A/N:** Now that I have finished this story (prologue, 16 chapters, and an epilogue), you'll be getting a chapter every other day starting today. Sunday may be an exception as it's Father's Day and I'm not sure how much time I'll have to edit that day (but if I can't post on Sunday you'll get a new chapter on Monday).

I hope you guys enjoy the way I wrap this journey up!

Also, be warned: HERE BE SMUT. ;)

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: I Believe

* * *

"Well call me crazy, and people saying,

That we moved too fast.

But I've been waiting for a reason.

Ain't no turning back,

Cause you showed me something I can't live without,

I believe, I believe, I believe,

When you hold me it's like heaven coming down,

I believe, I believe, I believe,

That you showed me.

Everywhere that I go, feeling you all around me.

Now that I got you close,

I'm alright.

Baby, I didn't know, but I'm glad that you found me,

Cause I'm seeing the most in your eyes."

-"I Believe" by the Jonas Brothers

* * *

It's Friday. They've officially hit the weekend. Meaning she'll be going home in just a few days. Well, not _home_. L.A. isn't home. It never has been. Fears of running into her past aside, it's San Francisco that's always felt like home.

Now more than ever.

Thanks to one person more than any other.

Lucy wakes slowly, conscious of Wyatt's chest pressed to her back and his arm strewn over her. She turns carefully, not wanting to wake him. He's really too handsome to be real. Too handsome to be a part of her everyday life.

In that way, it makes sense that he lives and works about 400 miles away from her. Otherwise, this would all be too good to be true.

She trails her hand up his arm, over his bicep, shoulder, and then tenderly brushes her fingers over his cheek. The intensity of her love for him feels impossible. She loves Amy. Some part of her still loves her mother. She _thought_ she loved Jonas. But no amount of love she's ever felt in her life measures up to her love for Wyatt Logan. It's different than her love for her sister. That will never fade or leave her. It's been with her for all of Amy's life, and will stay with her long into their old age. It just is and always has been.

But _Wyatt_.

Her love for Wyatt came on almost all at once. Yet, it buried itself so far beneath her skin that there's no way anyone could ever remove it. It terrifies her sometimes because she knows there's nothing he could do that would send her running from him. She's tied to him for the rest of her life. That knowledge is...massive.

It's not that he can do no wrong. She knows he can. He probably will and so will she. No, it's more like no wrong he will ever do would be enough to circumvent his love from her heart. She simply will never be able to walk away from him. For such a simple and understandable concept, it _feels_ complicated. Her emotions are tangled in his. Whatever pain or failure he feels, she knows she'll share. It's the same with his successes.

She's still Lucy Preston, but parts of her now overlap with Wyatt Logan.

And there's no way it can be undone.

It's not a matter of wanting to move forward. They _have_ to move forward. Her happiness depends on it. Her happiness depends on _him_. She doesn't have control anymore. Not completely. It should send her spiraling into a pit of panic, but it doesn't. She trusts him with her happiness. She trusts him with her heart.

She trusts him with her future.

He'll do everything he can to treat that trust with the utmost care. She's confident in that. In just a handful of weeks this man has turned her world upside down. Upended her, body and soul.

She doesn't want to think about who she would be now if he hadn't. She never wants to know what would become of her if she didn't love him. That version of her could never exist. In every life, in every reality…

Lucy Preston will always love Wyatt Logan.

It's an unshakeable law of the Universe. Of Time. Of _Life_.

Now, she needs to figure how she wakes up every morning just like this. With his body heat comforting her and his arms holding her securely. She needs him every day of her life for as long as she lives it. Not just on weekends.

His head leans towards her with his eyes still closed, and she grins as he places his lips on hers.

"Someone's awake," she mutters against him.

"And _someone's _been staring at me for about fifteen minutes now," he says through a groggy chuckle before crushing her against him with a heady liplock.

He rolls her under him with very little effort and she wastes no time wrapping her legs around his waist. She's in one of his t-shirts and nothing else. She wouldn't even be in that but she'd gotten cold in the middle of the night and grabbed it off of the floor. He grunts in disapproval when his hands find fabric instead of skin. She chuckles into the kiss but her humor evaporates when his calluses brush across her thighs as he grips the bottom hem of the shirt.

He lifts his weight off of her just long enough to whip the shirt up and off. When he settles back on top of her she can't help but let a satisfied sigh escape her. Being with him is always fulfilling. It always will be. He's her perfect fit. She wraps her arms around him, under his arms and over the backs of his shoulders. She nestles herself as close as she possibly can. His bare skin slides against every inch of hers, and it causes the most wanton whine to leave her throat.

They've just woken up but _damn_. Heat has already flooded her entire body and left her ready for whatever he has in mind. He's ready too because not even a second after she's had the thought he's pushing inside of her. It always feels so fucking easy with him. As much as she enjoys foreplay, it's not necessary with Wyatt. That's been true from the first moment he smiled at her. She'd been mystified by the way she instinctively pressed her thighs together, at first, but now it makes sense.

Her body knew how important he was before she ever did. It naturally knew it's perfect match. And he is _perfect_. Hard everywhere she's soft, evenly aggressive and gentle at just the right moments, in time with her movements so that she's able to take more of him than she ever thought possible, and equally as greedy as he is giving. _Perfect_.

"Jesus," he swears. "We should wake up like this every morning."

She lets out a breathless laugh as they continue to move together. "No argument here. _Oh, god_."

The pressure's starting to build up to what's sure to be a glorious release. Her muscles are tensing and her fingernails are digging into his back. Her noises, alternating moans and whimpers, are increasing in frequency and volume. Something she's only even done with him. She feels that first tell-tale flutter a moment before the world explodes around her. Every nerve is lit with deep genuine pleasure. It crackles between them with their heat and friction like static electricity. She feels little shocks everywhere he touches her. _Lightning_.

The storm clouds she memorized long ago are gazing at her adoringly as he hits his own release. She loses her connection to his eyes as his face is pressed against the curve of her neck. He muffles his sounds against her sweat-slicked skin, leaving kisses there as he comes back to himself. Her nails lightly scrape his scalp and through his short hair, offering him all the peace she feels.

He lifts his head and captures her lips with his in a slow open mouthed kiss. She feels all of his love for her in his kiss. He may pick and choose his moments for words, but he _never_ wastes a kiss.

In the aftermath of _him_, she remembers she's leaving soon and tears fill her eyes, unbidden. His hand cups her cheek and the wetness he finds there causes him to pull back and search her face for signs of distress.

"What's going on up here, Professor," he asks as he brushes a long finger over her temple. "I can feel you thinking."

"I'm right back where I was last weekend," she tells him with a sad sigh. "I don't want to leave, Wyatt. I don't want to go through my week without you. This week was supposed to _help_ with that but I think all it did was spoil me."

"It spoiled me too," He assures her. "My office is yours now. I won't be able to go in there ever again without thinking about you."

She's unbelievably moved by that, but it doesn't solve their problem. "So, what are we going to do about that? We can't keep spending money on gas and airfare forever and while FaceTime is great during the week it's just..._not enough_."

"I've been thinking about it," he starts as he anxiously meets her eyes and pries himself away from her. He doesn't go far. Just far enough so he's not crushing her unnecessarily. "And I think we should move in together. I don't know which city or who goes where yet, but I was hoping we could start there."

"Move in together?" She asks. She's shocked, but not because she doesn't want to. She's shocked because it's exactly what she wants and she never dreamed he would be there at the same time as her. But she has to make sure. She needs to know he really wants that. "You don't think that might be a little soon?"

He gives her a flat look and scoffs. "Luce, the first night we met we made out in an elevator."

She blushes and then grins at him. "That is an _excellent _point. I have to admit."

"We've never done things like other people," he says warmly. "I see no reason to start now. But if you think it's too soon—"

"No! I don't! I want to," she says earnestly as she curls herself into his side. "There's nothing I'd like more, Wyatt. I promise."

"Good," he says with a sigh of relief and a kiss to her head. "That's half of a decision made."

"How do we determine _where_?" She asks with a furrowed brow.

"I may have some ideas," he tells her. "But I would have to talk them over with Mason, and I don't want to get your hopes up if I can't make them happen."

Her eyes narrow on his. "What sort of ideas?"

He's reluctant to answer, but he eventually does. "I think the new office in Los Angeles might be a pretty good window of opportunity for us."

She's utterly floored. It's not that she assumed he wouldn't offer, but if he's been thinking about that then he's truly _serious_. He has more connections in San Francisco than she has in L.A. While she was assuming she would have to get over her past and make the move back he was making his own plans.

"But Wyatt your friends—no your _family_— is here, and you have this house, you love your job just as it is _now_—"

"You're not wrong about any of those things," he interrupts her with honest agreement. "But you're not the only one who thinks FaceTime is not enough. I don't want to spend the week with you in a different city. But I don't want you stuck in a city that will stress you out. I won't let you live in fear of being embarrassed by people like Jonas or your mother. You deserve to live somewhere you feel _free_, Luce, and I don't think that place is San Francisco. Besides that, your semester starts in a couple of weeks doesn't it? You can't leave UCLA _now_. Not without damaging your reputation. I may not work in academics but even I know that. The easier move _is_ me relocating to Los Angeles."

"I just hate the idea of you giving up the things you love for me," Lucy admits with a conflicted expression. "All I have in L.A. is my sister and my students. I don't have a tight-knit group of friends like you do and I don't own any property except my car—" She pauses as a thought hits her and then gives Wyatt an alarmed glance. "Your Charger! You can't keep your charger in a parking garage or a surface lot, Wyatt. And there is no way you're going to find a place as nice as this house in Los Angeles."

He laughs and gives her a look that's both amused and touched. "You're concerned about my _car_? Of all the things...you're thinking about my _car_? Oh God, did I pick the right woman to fall head over heels in love with or what?"

She rolls her eyes and chuckles at him. "Shut up. Look, I just want to make sure you won't regret it or resent me later. The last thing I want is to show up, rip your whole life apart, and have that be the thing that ruins us."

"Hey," he says seriously as he grips her chin and pulls her eyes back to his. "That's not what's happening here. You're not ripping _anything_ apart. My friends will still be my friends. I just won't see them every day. That's the only difference. And there's no way I could ever regret being closer to you. That's impossible. You mean _everything_ to me, Lucy. I need you to know that."

"You mean everything to me too," she replies. She can feel tears of joy lingering in her eyes. He looks ardently sincere. She has no doubts that he's telling her the truth. "If that's what you really want to do, Wyatt, then I want that too. I just want us to figure this out. That's the most important thing."

He nods and then dips his lips to hers for a soft kiss. "I'll talk to Mason today and see what he thinks. It's possible he may not like the idea at all and if so we'll have to come up with something else. I don't know. Maybe start my own firm? I could probably get Dave on board. I'm sure Jenny wouldn't mind him living in L.A. considering she's scheduling Fi _auditions_ now."

"Leave Mason?" Lucy asks as she sucks in a startled breath. "Wyatt—"

"It's just an idea, Lucy. I don't think it will come to that," he says quickly, cutting off her concerns. "A plan B, that's all."

"This feels so disproportionate," she says with an irritated huff. "I would feel better if I was sacrificing something too, but I'm not. I hate that it feels like it's all on you. It makes me anxious."

"I would _not_ feel better if you were sacrificing something. I'm okay with this, ma'am. I really am. You have nothing to feel anxious or guilty about. I promise," he declares as he wraps his arms tighter around her. "You focus on your book and your classes. I'll worry about the rest."

"I'm not very good at _not_ feeling anxious in case you haven't noticed," Lucy says with an agitated huff.

"No, you? Really?" He asks sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes and smacks his arm playfully. "Jerk."

"You plan to let this jerk move in with you. What does that say about you?"

"That I'm weak for stormy blue eyes and a jaw full of well maintained scruff."

"Stormy blue eyes, huh?" He asks with a smirk.

"Do _not_ let that go to your head."

"Exactly what kind of storm are we talking about?" He asks with a teasing glance. "Hurricane? Tornado? Thunder?"

His alarm blares from his bedside table and Lucy grins triumphantly at him. "Oh, well, time to get up. Guess now you'll never know."

"This discussion is not over, Preston. I'm gonna need details on that storm."

She glances down at her nonexistent watch and then swiftly slides out of his arms. "Oh, would you look at that. You have an hour to get ready for work. That's not a lot of time. I should go make coffee."

He _knows_ he's attractive. He does not need anyone bolstering his ego. At least not when it comes to his looks. She swipes the t-shirt he discarded earlier off the floor and pulls it over her head, a split second before he's out of the bed and making a move to grab her. She yelps and jumps away just in time.

"How rude!" She says with a loud guffaw while she takes refuge in the open bedroom doorway. Her amusement makes her scolding completely meaningless. She's well aware. It seems they've fallen into some sort of _game_ now. "I'm just trying to keep you on schedule, Soldier."

"_For once_," he cracks with a laughing smile.

"There's a first time for everything," she says as she straightens her neck and shoulders in a rare moment of self-assurance and gives him a cheeky smile.

"Are you gonna answer my question or are you going to make me chase you down?" He asks, not even bothering to reach for his boxers that sit on the floor at his feet.

She shakes her head with a smirk and takes one large step away from him. "I am not feeding your ego, Logan. Not about your looks. And if you plan to chase me, just remember, I ran track in high school. I'm _fast_."

"With _those_ legs? That's a given," he says as he admires them, unabashed. "But maybe you've forgotten that I was Special Forces? You may be faster than me, but I'm the one with the stamina, babydoll."

Her gaze lingers over his naked form and turns sultry. She has no choice but to lick her lips and reply, "Don't I know it, sweetheart."

There's a lingering moment of quiet while they mutually appreciate each other before he suddenly lunges for her. She lets out a combination of a squeal and a laugh before turning and running away from him. She has no doubt he'll catch her but not without one hell of an effort first. They circle the couch and then his dining room table until she manages makes a break for his office. She's almost closed the door behind her when his hand shoots out and pushes it open, much too easily.

He backs her across the room, but stops when her legs hit the window seat. His eyes never leave hers as he reaches behind her and pulls the cord to close the blinds, blocking out the morning light.

"I believe we have a date to meet at this window seat later," he says, while his eyes fall to her lips. "I'm cashing in on that a little early."

Her shirt is thrown aside for the second time that morning as he lays her down across the window seat, pinning her with his full mass, but she has other plans. He's already done most of the work once today, and he plans to be the one sacrificing more to be with her. By all accounts, _it's her turn_. She pushes at his shoulders until he takes the hint and sits up. She kisses him as they move and guides him. Finally, when he's sitting on the window seat with his back against the blinds she straddles his lap.

He growls into the kiss as she reaches in between them and wraps a hand around the hard length of him. Surely, he knows what she's up to by now. She lines herself up and sinks down on top of him, by slow aching degrees. Her knees and thighs tighten around him as she settles, keeping him still. She knows him. She knows he's likely dying to move. But she's determined to take the lead.

His hands grip her hips and his fingers dig into her skin, hard enough to leave bruises. She pulls away from the drugging kisses they've been exchanging to smirk against his lips.

"When we actually move in together, we can_not_ do this _every _morning. We will eventually have to be responsible adults," she tells him with soft chuckle.

"I beg to differ, ma'am," he says through a tense jaw. "Now, kindly, move or let _me_ move."

She leans forward until she can nibble on the shell of his ear and then whispers, "Since you asked so nicely."

She circles her hips causing a groan to leave him that sounds almost _feral_. His head lands on her shoulder, and when she moves again his teeth gently bite her collar bone.

"Oh, _shit, _Lucy," he mumbles reverently against her skin.

She keeps her thighs locked around him as she moves on top of him. She's moving deliberately slowly, kissing along his stubbled jaw and biting the small spot between his jaw and his ear. It's his weak spot. She's not sure when she found it, exactly. She just knows it's there.

She wants him worked up. She wants the tension in him coiled to the point of exploding. She nearly throws her plan out, though, when his rough hands find her breasts and his thumbs start flicking across her pebbled nipples.

"Oh, _Fuck._" Her exclamation is desperate and breathy.

He smirks with his lips pressed to the hollow of her throat and then trails wet open kisses across the entire sternum.

"You gonna turn me loose?" He asks, his voice strained with need. "You're driving me insane, you know."

"That's kind of the point, _Master Sergeant_."

He groans as if he's in pain. "Jesus Christ, did you just—my rank has never sounded so damn sexy. Play fair, _at least_."

"Where's the fun in that?" She asks as she moves more forcefully against him.

"Fairness is out the window, huh?" He asks as his mouth slides lower on her chest. "Okay, then two can play that game, Professor."

She wants to ask what he means but she doesn't need to. His actions answer for him. Two things happen at once. His mouth wraps around her nipple and his fingers find the bundle of nerves between her legs. All semblance of control flies out the window. Her head flings backward and she arches against him with a yearning shout. He immediately takes advantage by thrusting into her hard and deep. He flips them, placing her back against the cushioned seat and pressing his chest against hers. Simultaneously, her arms wrap around his shoulders and her legs wrap around his waist. She's trying to tether herself to any all stability he can offer her.

He wanted to be let loose — well, now he's loose.

And he's making the most of it. He pulls her arms away from his shoulders so that he can raise up and then angles her hips to meet his new position, lifting her lower back and rear from the cushion. Her hands blindly grab at the wall behind her. She's not exactly sure what she's in for but she knows she'll need to hold on to _something_.

When he pushes back in a startled yell is forced from her throat. Everything in her lights up in an instant. _Holy shit._

How did he know that this position would hit her _just so_? They've never used it before but it hits her sweet spot so goddamn _perfectly_.

They're amazing together every time, but this…

He's treating her to the absolute best sex she's _ever _had.

Before either of them had even had _breakfast._

They unravel unnervingly quickly after that. He finds release after her, joining her in a melted puddle of muscle, sweat, and useless limbs. They're both panting and grinning like loons. She brings her hands to her flushed face and tries to wipe away the lingering moisture.

She somehow manages to speak through ragged breaths. "Okay, I know I said we couldn't do that every morning once we move in together but I was wrong. I was _very very_ wrong. Any time you want to surprise me with something new that hits my g-spot like _that_ you go for it, Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan. _Holy shit, wow._"

"I don't care what our place looks like in L.A. but it's having a fucking window seat," Wyatt replies with a gravelly chuckle.

She lets out a brief giddy giggle. "A _fucking_ window seat. I see what you did there, sir."

He laughs with her for a moment and she suspects they're both a little delirious. Possibly love drunk. Either is fine with her.

"Oh god, I am going to be so late for work," Wyatt says with a groan as he lifts them from the window seat. "Time for a reality check."

He gingerly sets her feet down on the carpeted floor and then presses a kiss to her temple. He finds her shirt and tosses it to her.

"I'll shower, you make the coffee."

She gives him a mock salute and a nod. "Sir, yes, sir."

He lets out an amused snort and, as she marches past him, he playfully swats at her ass. She hops awkwardly and bats his hand away with a laugh. "Stop that. Go get ready for work, Caveman."

His eyes stay glued to her as he retreats to the bedroom and she feels like he sees straight through her borrowed t-shirt. Never in her entire life has a man ever made her feel the way he does. She feels powerful and sexy yet cared for and safe. It's a strange jumble of things that she already knows will leave her glowing for the rest of the day.

Then it hits her, out of the blue and in a way it hasn't up until this point, that she's in a serious committed relationship. It's been six weekends, but it feels like it's been six _months_. Should that matter? She knows they talked about it. She knows he agreed that the speed of their relationship isn't important to him, but is a month and a half too soon to move in? Are they _crazy_? Does it matter if they're crazy?

Their relationship makes sense to _them_. That should be all that matters. It _is_ all that matters. The nagging voice telling her to reconsider is _wrong_, and it sounds an awful lot like her mother. She rolls her eyes at herself as she enters the kitchen and starts the coffee. Will she ever stop hearing her mother's voice in her head? Her mother has narrated her doubts her entire life and she hoped distancing herself from her would put a stop to that. It hasn't.

Bottom line, she loves Wyatt Logan and she wants to spend as much time as she can with him. Not just for the next week or the next few months. _For the rest of her life_. She was engaged to Jonas and she never felt that way about _him_. Most of the time they were together, especially at the end, she wanted to run away and never look back. Which means she _knows_ how beautiful her feelings for Wyatt actually are and it means she _understands_ this connection doesn't happen every day.

She nearly let herself lose him to her insecurities and fears once before. She _won't_ do it again. If it means she has to stare down the doubting devil on her shoulder every day for the rest of her life then she will. Wyatt's words from last night offer her comfort. His suggestion that she's been writing her story all along sticks out amongst her mother's voice. She wants him to be right. She needs him to be right.

It's her life and her story. She never liked the future her mother predicted for her.

Her future belongs to her and she can rewrite it anytime she wants.

Especially, if she's rewriting it to include Wyatt Logan.

* * *

He's a half hour late to work. Thankfully, he's able to sneak in without anyone other than his receptionist noticing. Given the conversation he's about to have with Mason, it's important that the man see Wyatt as the ideal employee. Allowing yourself to be late for work because your girlfriend is too damn sexy to resist is not something the ideal employee would do.

Dave wanders by his office first. They have a staff meeting in half an hour.

"How's it going?" Dave asks as he sits down across from Wyatt.

Wyatt grins and leans back in his chair with a shrug. "Pretty damn great."

Dave raises an eyebrow at him. "Great as in you had sex this morning or great as in you and Lucy finally talked about the next steps?"

"Both," Wyatt answers. "I've got a meeting with Mason this afternoon to throw around some ideas."

Dave smiles at him but it's dim, at best. "I take it that means you're the one doing the moving."

Lucy's story isn't Wyatt's to tell but he feels like he needs to explain. He doesn't want this to impact Lucy's relationship with his friends. "San Francisco isn't exactly the most positive place for her. There's been some..._uncomfortable_ incidents this week. It took a bit of convincing but I talked her into letting me come to L.A. instead of the other way around. Besides, she starts classes in a couple of weeks. I don't want her professional reputation to suffer because of me."

"What's your plan with Mason?" Dave asks, nodding in acceptance of Wyatt's answer.

"I think I can run security from the L.A. office. You'll be here to run the San Francisco office and then I can manage the big picture for _all_ M.I. Offices, including our East Coast offices. We can remotely funnel everything through L.A. Everybody video conferences these days anyway, don't they?" Wyatt says thoughtfully. "And if I need to, I can visit Palo Alto once or twice a month to keep it all running smoothly. I think it might actually be more secure that way. I've been meaning to find a way to be more in the loop with the New York and DC offices for months so this might end up being a win-win for everybody."

He runs through it like he's rehearsed in his head with Mason. Being sure to point on the logic ahead of his own personal need for the move and trying his hardest not to sound too desperate to make it happen.

Dave nods. "Sounds good. Logical. And you're right, we do need to be more involved with the East Coast for sure. The hack Mason hired to run the New York office has no idea what he's doing. That guy, Flynn, in DC is good though. His NSA connections have come in handy for us."

Wyatt scoffs. "Sure, I can't say he's not competent, but he's a total dick."

"I'd rather someone be good at their job and suck at the interpersonal shit than charming and a useless hack."

"I'll pretend to not know you're talking about Michael in New York. Considering I'm technically your boss _and_ his I probably shouldn't take sides or play favorites," Wyatt replies with a smirk. "But if I had to choose, yeah I'd take Flynn over Michael any day."

"Well, I wish you luck, brother. If it works, what are you gonna do with your house?"

"Haven't thought that far ahead yet, but maybe...rent it?" He says with a narrowed contemplative gaze. "It would be steady extra income, and might finally force me to fix the place up a bit. Been meaning to but there never seemed to be any real rush or a good reason to spend the cash when I was fine with it the way it was. Or maybe I'll just fix it up without renting it out? Gotta do something with the Charger and I'd feel better leaving it here in my garage than finding somewhere for it in L.A."

"Woah, hold on," Dave says with a teasing grin. "You're giving up the _Charger_? Damn dude, you're really in this with Lucy for the long haul, huh?"

He snorts and grins easily. "It's safe to say I've jumped all the way in. Head first, no regrets."

"As much as I'll miss you, bro, I gotta say that's good to hear," Dave admits with a nod. "And if you need a place to keep the Charger, I have an extra space in my garage. I could even keep her up for you. Make sure she runs whenever you want her back."

"Thanks, man, I'll think about it."

"In other news," Dave says with a wide grin. "Guess who requested to be my friend on Facebook yesterday?"

The look on Dave's face is full of trouble. Wyatt's not sure he wants to know. "Who?"

"Amy Preston. You didn't tell me Lucy's sister was a hot blonde."

"Oh, hell, no," Wyatt says immediately with a halfhearted warning glare. "Dave, dude, don't."

"What was I supposed to do? Say no to her friend request? Do you _want me_ to be rude to your girlfriend's sister?" Dave asks with a chuckle. "I can already tell Lucy was right, though. Calling Amy a handful is only _half_ the picture. Does the girl ever stop moving? I swear she's posted once every hour today. Also, she messaged me and gave me a bit of scoop about Myrtle Beach."

Wyatt groans miserably. He's not going to like whatever comes next.

"Six condoms in one night?" Dave asks with raised brows and an impressed grin. "Dude!"

He holds out his fist for a bump but Wyatt shakes his head and refuses. "Jesus, you're never allowed to talk to her again. Also, does Lucy tell her _everything_?"

"Apparently so," Dave replies with a laugh. "That's gonna be fun for you. You realize, when the day comes that you and Lucy get married, she's gonna be your sister-in-law, right? And probably even more involved in your life than she is now?"

"Well, she can't be any more meddlesome than all of you, can she?" Wyatt asks pointedly.

"True! Jiya would give her a run for her money," Dave agrees.

"Listen, I'm enlisting your help on this _right now_. We cannot let those two meet. And I mean _ever_. If Amy and Jiya put their heads together world domination would be well within their grasp and that's the last thing we need," Wyatt says with a grin and a chuckle. "We're the only people who can keep that from happening."

"I make no promises," Dave replies with a shake of his head. "Jiya's an evil genius. I don't think I could stop her if I tried. Just suck it up and be prepared to serve our new overlords once they successfully take over the world. That's what I'm gonna do."

"Chicken," Wyatt says with a roll of his eyes.

"Is it chicken or is it _smart_?" Dave asks him as he taps his temple. "I'm going with smart."

The rest of the day ticks on predictably and even Wyatt's meeting with Mason seems pretty run of the mill. Mason listens intently but he declines to make an immediate decision. He wants cost analysis and a rundown of how communication would flow. Both are understandable and Wyatt promises to get started on both of those things, which is exactly what he spends the rest of his day doing. He'll probably be working on it for a good chunk of next week too.

Cost analysis are the most nit picky mind numbingly dull things. They take forever to put together because the accountants want every tiny detail hammered down, which involves tracking down the current spending reports for the three existing Mason Industries offices and thorough conversations with both Michael and Flynn.

But if Mason's going to do something as big as this, he wants to make sure it benefits the entire company. Not just Wyatt and his department. It's what makes Mason as savvy as he is. Wyatt respects that.

When he gets home that night, Lucy is in the office as he expects. This time wearing more than just his t-shirt. She's sitting behind his desk and not on the window seat, talking to someone on the phone.

"Absolutely, this weekend should be great," Lucy replies with a bright smile. "No, Sarah, it's fine. I'm happy to do it. Oh, stop." Lucy blushes and rolls her eyes. "You know, that's not true. I've already agreed to do it. You can quit flattering me now. Not a problem. Yeah. I'll see you Saturday."

Wyatt leans against the doorframe and waits for her to look at him once she's hung up the phone. "What's that about?"

"Uh, well, hopefully you don't mind, but an old classmate needs a favor tomorrow," Lucy answers nervously. "She's been doing a summertime guest lecture series at San Francisco State and her speaker for tomorrow dropped out. She heard I was writing a book on Judith Campbell and wanted to know if I could fill in at the last minute. Is that okay?"

"Why wouldn't that be okay?" He asks in confusion.

"I—I don't know. We're just trying to spend as much time together as we can before I go back, and it'll probably take up half my day tomorrow. She's taking me out to lunch afterward as a thank you." She glances down at her laptop with obvious apprehension. "I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with that."

"I know I can be a jackass, but I'm not _that kind _of jackass," Wyatt replies with a supportive smile. "I know your life doesn't revolve around me, Lucy, and I never expect it to. It sounds like a good opportunity for you. Don't let me stop you."

She bites her bottom lip, causing her grin to fall crookedly across her face. "Would you, maybe, want to come with me?"

"Hell, yes, I would," he answers immediately. "I've seen pieces here and there of Professor Preston lectures, and I've been impatiently waiting for my chance to see the whole picture. You better believe I'll be there. Front row center."

The elated look she gives him is one he'll never forget. She wants to share her work with him just as badly as he wants to see it. He wants to know every part of her. Especially, the part that keeps her passionate and inspired. He remembers his jealousy of Amy not that long ago, wishing that he could be the one to drop by Lucy's office and force feed her when she forgets. He realizes now that it won't be long before that becomes his reality. Maybe he and Amy can alternate lunch duty.

Tomorrow is just the beginning of his exposure to the Professor side of her and he finds himself filled with positive anticipation. It's yet another first for the two of them, and it feels like a big one.

"Did you talk to Mason today?" She asks as she closes her laptop and stands from the desk.

He nods. "I did. He wants to see more detailed information on my ideas before he decides, but he certainly sounded interested. I think he's more likely to say yes than no, provided the financials can be worked out."

"So, you might actually be moving to L.A.?" She asks in disbelief. "The wheels are sort of in motion?"

"I should be able to present him with the final idea next week and hopefully get a decision not long after that. The wheels are definitely in motion."

"Oh my god," she says with a slow blink. "This is actually happening."

He places his hands on her hips and pulls her closer with an amused smile. "Are you just now realizing that?"

"I—well, no, I mean I know we talked about it this morning. It's just...this morning it was an idea. A thought. But now...now it's a _plan_. It's real! That's a big change in just a matter of hours," she replies honestly as she wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his shoulder.

He nods his agreement. "A good change."

"The _best_ change," she says softly. "It makes the idea of leaving on Monday more bearable. The distance isn't looming over us anymore. We're actively doing something about it now."

He kisses the top of her head and then rests his cheek against it. "We won't be apart for too much longer. I'm sure of it."

"You're always so sure of everything," she replies with a chuckle. "Every step of the way you've been _sure_. Even when I wasn't. Thank you for that."

"My pleasure, ma'am. I knew from the minute I saw you that you were too good to pass up. When something like this comes your way," He says as he squeezes her gently. "You don't let it go for anything. I've made some stupid mistakes with you, but I never had any intention of letting you slip through my fingers."

"You're not the only one who's made mistakes, Wyatt. I have too. But I feel like we've turned a corner. I _feel_ like we're going to make this work. Some way, somehow. I'm _ready_ to do that with you," she declares with determination.

He never doubted her but hearing the steely grit in her voice puts him at ease. He knows she's instinctively more anxious than he is, thanks to a childhood full of unrealistic expectations and debilitating pressure, so to hear her sound so certain soothes him. She's as dedicated to being together as he is. They're in this together for the foreseeable future.

The future has never looked so bright.


	15. 14 Where You Lead

**A/N: **This took entirely too long to edit and upload. This is my fourth attempt at it today. I finally had to give up on copy and paste and save this as a word file from google docs and then upload. Urgh. and since I copy and paste from FFN to Ao3 that delayed posting on BOTH platforms.

But finally, here it is, chapter 14.

Also, HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO ALL THE DADS OUT THERE. I doubt any are reading this fic but just in case. At the very least I can wish a happy dad's day to AoP's Dave and probably Connor too (since he adopted all these dorks that work at Mason.)

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Where You Lead

* * *

"Loving you the way I do,

I know we're gonna make it through,

And I would go to the ends of the earth,

'Cause, darling, to me that's what you're worth.

Where you lead, I will follow,

Anywhere that you tell me to.

If you need, you need me to be with you,

I will follow where you lead."

-"Where You Lead" by Carole King

* * *

Lucy wants to be at the lecture hall a half hour early. Wyatt got up, got ready, and got out of her way. He's seen Lucy in a flurry of getting dressed for various dinners and he knows it's very _involved_. However, they've yet to do much more than go to dinner. They've been too busy squeezing in alone time wherever they can get it. That's what happens when you only see each other two days of the week.

Eventually, he hopes they're in the same place long enough to go to shows, concerts, museums. Maybe even plan a vacation _together_ as opposed to colliding in the middle of separate trips. The idea of he and Lucy going back to Myrtle Beach on a joint vacation springs to mind and he files it away for later. That's a fantasy he can someday make a reality.

For now, he doesn't know if Lucy getting ready for dinner is different than Lucy getting ready for a lecture. He decides to let her get ready without him looking over her shoulder. He retreats to the kitchen to make them both breakfast and coffee. About fifteen minutes before the time she told him she wanted to leave, Lucy races into the kitchen.

He's poured her a large coffee in a to-go mug and made her a breakfast sandwich to match his (that he's already finished off). It's quicker to make and easier to eat on the go.

She takes in the coffee and the sandwich while he takes in _her_.

As always, she's _gorgeous_. He wonders how many of her students have a crush on her while his gaze lingers from the top of her head to the toes of her shoes.

Green dress tied around the waist, saucy leopard print ankle boots, and a slightly oversized tan blazer. Her hair appears carelessly tousled but he knows from the roar of the hair dryer and the amount of product she's been keeping in his bathroom this week that she's wrangled it into submission. Those little stray natural curls he likes so much are nowhere to be seen today. It's all topped off with beach themed jewelry. Seashells and starfish and sand dollars. It contradicts with the leopard print on her feet and has him curious.

He holds out the sandwich to her, wrapped in a paper towel, and then brushes a finger over the seashell pendant on her necklace once she's within reach.

He notices a seashell themed charm bracelet on her wrist too.

"The, uh, seashells don't match the Leopard print," he says with a curious grin as he nods down to her boots (that he likes way more than he should, by the way).

She swallows down her first bite of sandwich with the help of a gulp of coffee in order to answer him.

"For some reason, and I have no idea why," she says sarcastically with a secretive smile. "I went through a phase, those first two weeks after vacation, where all I wanted was seashell or beach themed jewelry. I don't know, maybe it made me think of some place or _someone_. So I thought, again for some unknown reason, I might wear some of it today."

"Hmm, I wonder what had you thinking of that?" He asks with a cocksure grin. "Must be something or someone pretty important."

"He likes to think so," she says with half of a smirk before taking another bite.

"Well, _he_ made you breakfast so maybe he's a little more vital than you think," Wyatt replies with a quirked brow. The corner of his mouth barely ticks upward as he watches her devour his handiwork. Obviously, he does good work.

"Your skills are definitely appreciated," Lucy says as she chews, delicately trying to hide her mouth with her hand.

He chuckles and then picks her coffee up off the counter. As soon as he places the mug in her hand she sips eagerly. "Why thank you, ma'am. Happy to assist."

He kisses the top of her head on his way to grab his own forgotten travel mug and his car keys. Her cumbersome tote sits on his coffee table so he picks that up too.

"Jesus, Professor," he says as he counters his stance to balance the weight of her bag. "What are you carrying in here? A library?"

"Essentially," she answers through another swallow. "Plus a laptop. Too heavy for you, soldier?" She grins and shoves the rest of the sandwich in her mouth as she awaits his answer.

"No," he says as he adjusts the straps with difficulty. "Just wondering why your arms aren't _jacked_, is all."

They make their way from the house to the car and then set out for the university. The traffic is light around San Francisco State, thanks to it being the last few weeks of summer break, so they manage to park in the faculty lot a mere forty minutes later.

A tall blonde meets them at the Library entrance. Lucy's face brightens and she hugs her excitedly.

"Thank you so much for this, Lucy. You have saved the day," she says as they pull apart. She then holds her hand out toward Wyatt. "Hi, I'm Sarah."

"Wyatt," he says as he shakes her hand.

"He's with me," Lucy explains in response to Sarah's questioning glance.

"Oh, okay, well right this way. We are in the event room on the second floor. We'll have the room for about three hours total. One hour for your lecture, one for a Q&A, and then the extra hour is for set up and clean up. There are about seventy students that have registered for the event and around ten or so of our faculty will be in attendance as well." Sarah rattles off more information as they walk. Some of it is relevant to Lucy's lecture, some of it is about the library itself.

By the time they reach the room on the second floor Wyatt knows more than he cares to about the recently renovated building. It almost seems, to him, as if Sarah is _trying_ to impress Lucy.

"We're a growing but enthusiastic department," Sarah tells them as they reach the front podium. "We have a decent reputation but our goal is to be exceptional eventually. It'll take time and it means hiring the _right_ kind of educators."

Lucy nods and glances around the room with an analytical stare while she unloads her tote bag. "The right kind of educator will bring in the right kind of _students_. Yes, I agree. S.F.S.U. has been growing quite a bit the last few years. People have noticed."

Sarah quirks a brow at her. "Really? Does that group of people include yourself?"

"I wouldn't be here if it didn't," Lucy answers honestly. "You just need one solid addition to your faculty that can get that grant money rolling in and you'll be on your way."

"Yes, I had lunch with our university president just the other day about that exact thing," Sarah says as she helps Lucy hook up her laptop to the projection system. "We have a shortlist."

Lucy turns to Wyatt with a kind smile. "Sarah is Department Chair. She's the big boss."

"Uh, no, that's why I had to talk this over with the President," Sarah clarifies with an eyeroll. "Not the big boss. Not _yet_ anyway. But if you're interested, I thought I might show you my shortlist over lunch?"

"Absolutely! I'll be happy to give an opinion wherever I can," Lucy agrees helpfully.

"Perfect!" Sarah says with a relieved sigh.

Wyatt doesn't know Sarah all that well, but she seems nervous. He gets the impression lunch is going to be about more than just lunch.

Lucy, on the other hand, looks confident and comfortable. He's seen her nervous and he expected to see a little of that today. But he doesn't. She looks completely at ease. Wyatt is sent on a mission for hot tea and a bottle of water, which he finds in the cafe on the ground floor. By the time he comes back, students have started to trickle in and fill seats. Sarah is talking to a stern looking man in the back of the room and Lucy is organizing her notes at the podium.

He walks past Sarah and the man and heads straight for Lucy. He sets the tea and the water on the table next to the podium. She smiles at him in thanks.

"Room's starting to fill up, Professor," Wyatt says observantly.

"Good," she says with a tenacious grin. "The more students, the more chances I get to reel them in." She points to a seat in the middle of the front row that's flagged with a white paper folded over the back. "I saved you a seat. Front row, center. Just like you asked."

She looks ready to take on the world and it's damn sexy. If she wasn't technically on the clock, he'd kiss her. He can tell he's in for one hell of a show.

"Good luck," he says with a brief squeeze of her hand.

"Thanks, but I don't need it," she replies with a wink.

"Well, _shit_," he whispers with wide eyes and a soft chuckle. "And I thought I wanted to kiss you _before_ you said that."

She laughs and then levels him with her best stern teacher glare, eyes still alight with mischief. "Take your seat, Mr. Logan. We'll continue this conversation later. _Much later_."

"Yes, ma'am," he answers with a roguish smirk. "Looking forward to it."

He takes his seat and a moment later Sarah sits down next to him.

"Who was the grumpy gus in the back?" Wyatt asks her in a hushed tone.

"President Winter," Sarah replies quietly. "My boss."

Wyatt tries his best not to look alarmed but he doesn't think he succeeds. "Does he typically show up at these guest lectures?"

"No," Sarah says as she takes in an anxious breath. "He does not."

"Alright, level with me here, Ms. Department Chair," Wyatt says with a narrowed suspicious gaze. "What's _really_ going on here?"

She stares at him wide-eyes for a beat before glancing down at her watch and frantically climbing to her feet. "Oh, would you look at that! Time for introductions!"

That isn't convenient for her _at all_, Wyatt thinks sarcastically as Sarah begins to announce Lucy.

But he's not crazy. This is not a typical guest lecture. Not that he's ever been to one, but Sarah is too jumpy and her boss just happens to be here? No, if anything this feels like some sort of test or…

Audition?

Is Lucy auditioning for these people without knowing it?

Lucy blushes as Sarah begins to praise her, listing off her accomplishments one by one. She does a cut motion across her throat in an attempt to get Sarah to stop. Sarah rolls her eyes and carries on. Wyatt watches the whole scene with fond amusement. His professor is predictably modest. It's simultaneously refreshing and frustrating. It speaks to how unfairly she perceives herself.

Once Sarah sits back down, the lecture begins and there's no way for Wyatt to get an answer. But he's almost certain he's hit the nail on the head.

He keeps his eyes trained on Lucy, mesmerized by the way she paints a vivid picture of Judith Campbell's childhood. She makes this woman's story relevant and poignant through every year of her young life.

She pauses thoughtfully, though, after reaching Judith's first run-in with "Jack", otherwise known as President John F. Kennedy. When she resumes the lecture, she makes a point of asking the audience thought provoking questions, but she never gives concrete answers.

It's appears to be enough for her to pose the question and then analyze the way people see the world.

She points out that we all know of JFK's affair with Marilyn Monroe but in most cases it doesn't affect her reputation. Yet that is _not_ the case for Judith Campbell.

"Why is that? Is it because we perceive Ms. Monroe as a sex symbol and we expect such behavior? Is it because Judith's comparative obscurity gives her less of a reason to cross JFK's path and so we see her as a predator? Could it also be because we, as a society, persist in the myth that men have no control when it comes to sexual conduct? Or is it simply that we find it easier to label people as victim or perpetrator when it's just as likely that a person can be _both_? If you find any of these questions difficult to answer then that's _excellent_. That's exactly where your mindset should be. By reframing our thinking to consider that everything may not be black _or_ white, we open ourselves up to understanding the _humanity_ of the people that came before us. _That_ is the true goal of history. Exploring new perspectives of what you _think_ you know and using that to encourage _growth_. Challenging ourselves can keep us from repeating past mistakes. So, this morning, let's challenge ourselves by examining this woman's story _without _judgement. Do you think we can take that on together?"

There's an overwhelmingly positive response from the eighty or so people in the room before Lucy continues.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief and dramatically wipes her brow. "Phew! Because if you said no I was going to have to see myself out."

The room is filled with genuine chuckles as Lucy smirks at her own joke. From that point on, she has them all in the palm of her hand. She's enchanting and intelligent. If his teachers in school had been this engaging he might have been more active with his participation.

All too quickly, the lecture is over, and the people all around him applaud madly. Her audience is walking away with a new respect for a misunderstood woman. His cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling so brightly. She is _brilliant_. She's never shone brighter and pride in her practically bursts from his chest.

He knows her. He has the privilege of being someone she trusts and cares about. That woman, kicking ass and taking names in the world of academia, lets him keep her close. _How_? He's a hick from West Texas who built his career on more brawn than brain. What the _fuck_ is she doing with _him_? How truly fortunate is he to love and be loved by her?

When the applause dies down, Sarah takes the stage again and directs Lucy to sit in a chair behind the table at the front of the room. She opens the floor up to questions by instructing people to line up in the far right aisle.

The questions range from detailed puzzlers to mind numbingly dull to a few requests for autographs on her Lincoln book. Lucy handles them all with charm, competence, and humor. The questions finally end and Lucy's is allowed to gather her things. Wyatt stands by and discretely watches Sarah whispering with President Winter. President Winter no longer looks like the grumpy gus Wyatt assumed he was.

Eventually, they approach.

"Lucy, this is our University President, Jeremiah Winter. Mr. Winter this is Lucy Preston. She is on staff at U.C.L.A. and is former Stanford faculty," Sarah says as she motions between the two of them.

They shake hands. Winter's handshake is more enthusiastic than Lucy, or Wyatt, anticipated. Her whole body shakes as a result.

"That was one of the most entertaining lectures I have ever attended, Ms. Preston. I'm _highly_ impressed," he says as he finally releases her hand.

"Thank you so much," she demurs. "I'm very flattered."

"And this is her friend, um, Wyatt, right?" Sarah asks apologetically.

He nods and shakes Winter's hand as well. "Wyatt Logan."

Winter smiles politely at him and then turns back to Lucy. "I hope you don't mind if I tag along with the three of you to lunch?"

"Of course not!" Lucy says brightly. "Please, the more, the merrier."

And that's the story of how Wyatt ended up at lunch in the swanky dining room of a nearby hotel with three intellectuals. Jokes are flying back and forth that he does not understand and then they're talking about students who still can't format papers correctly in their last semester of undergrad or listening to Winter tell a story about the most obnoxious members of The Gators Club. He has no idea what kind of club that is but it seems to be full of busybody alumni who have opinions on how best to spend the university budget.

Surprisingly, he isn't bored. Sure, he can't keep up, but Lucy can. He's happy to sit back and watch her thrive. It helps that every now and then her hand strays to his thigh or she presses a little cozier into his side as they sit in the booth. He's there and she knows he's there. That's what's important.

"So," Sarah says slowly as Winter gives her an encouraging look. "Do you remember when I asked you to look at our short list?"

"Oh! Yes! Of course," Lucy says as she sets aside her glass of wine. "Let's see it."

Sarah pulls a single folded piece of paper out of her purse and slides it across the table. Lucy flips it open but stares at it in confusion. She looks up at Sarah with a furrowed brow.

"Is this a joke?" Lucy asks. "This is just a piece of paper with my name written on it. I mean, that's funny but where's the actual shortlist?"

Wyatt beams at her, proud and amused all at once. "Uh, Professor, it seems like you _are_ the shortlist."

Lucy glances between Wyatt and the two people on the other side of the table before her voice rings out at an elevated pitch. "_What_?"

"Oh, come on, Lucy, you can't be _that_ surprised," Sarah says with a disbelieving grin. "You're a _quality_ educator. You're a _star_. You have to know that."

Winter nods his agreement. "You are truly a world class talent, Ms. Preston. Just who our history department needs to help us reach that next level of prestige."

"I'm sorry, I think you may be confusing me with someone else," Lucy says with enlarged startled eyes. "You realize that I'm the younger Preston, don't you? Carol is my _mother_."

"I've actually had my eye on you for a long time, young lady," Winter reveals with a bemused glance. "But Sarah seemed to think you'd never leave Stanford."

"And then you _did_ and he's been mad at me ever since," Sarah replies with a wince. "Look, we know you currently have a good position at U.C.L.A. But we would really love to have you. If not for the fall then for the spring."

Lucy's head is spinning, he can tell. She's pale and tense and her mouth has fallen open just slightly. He's not sure what thoughts are going through her mind but he would wager she's waiting to wake up or wondering how likely it would be to run into her mother if she accepted their offer.

Sarah and Winter must take her silence to mean something else because, after a meaningful nod from Sarah, Winter sweetens the pot.

"If it will lure you away from U.C.L.A. after the fall, we're prepared to offer you tenure at your time of appointment."

Lucy reaches out suddenly and clutches his hand in a vice like grip. Wyatt knows what tenure _is_, of course, but he must be missing a bit of context. This seems like a bigger deal than it sounds.

"Tenure at time of _appointment_?" Lucy asks shrilly. "No five year probationary period or early tenure review?"

Winter nods. "Correct. You'd have tenure the minute you sign your contract."

"But that's...that's almost unheard of!" Lucy replies as she sucks in a breath. "I—_why?_ Why, me?"

"Simple," Winter says with a kind smile. "You raise the level of debate every time you speak. Quality instruction will draw in quality students. Our History department's profile is on the rise, yes, but with you on staff we can exceed expectations. You and Sarah would have the freedom to build the classes and department to _your_ specifications. You would chart your own course, so to speak. Besides all of that, I've checked my sources and you have brought in quite a bit of grant money to your previous universities. We could do with more grant money here at San Francisco State. So, this is what we call a mutually beneficial situation. We can offer you tenure and a guaranteed _home base _as well as opportunities for career growth and you can help us recruit students and raise funds. Sarah is right. You're a _star_, and while U.C.L.A. and Stanford may be blind to that talent _we_ are not. You'll have our complete support. You would be valued and needed here, Ms. Preston, and based on _your own_ merit alone. No one else's."

Lucy looks as though she's about to cry. He thinks it's out of happiness but he can't be sure. He squeezes her hand under the table. She gulps and then blinks her way back to reality.

"Can I—I think about it?" She asks.

"Of course," Winter agrees with a soft smile. "But I'm afraid I can't give you much more than a week."

"A week should be plenty of time," Lucy assures him. "Thank you so much for this generous offer. I'm not taking it lightly. I promise that I'll get back to you as soon as I've decided."

Once lunch is finished, they head back to his car, hand in hand.

"So, I take it tenure at time of appointment is _huge_?" Wyatt asks.

"Huge doesn't even begin to describe it. It's practically an act of _God_," she says with a stunned shake of her head. "I have been working my ass off for years to get tenure, but it never happened at Stanford and, while the idea of early tenure has been tossed around at U.C.L.A., currently I'm on a five year tenure track. Early tenure is almost impossible. Tenure at time of appointment is for _extremely exceptional_ people. Typically, the university president, in this case Jeremiah Winter, is the _only _person who can authorize it."

He whistles low as his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. "_Damn_, San Francisco State wants Professor Preston something awful."

"I can't imagine why," she says with a furrowed brow.

Wyatt immediately quits walking and pulls her to a stop with their linked hands.

"I can," he insists. "You were _amazing_ today, Lucy. You were funny, insightful, endearing and yet it never distracted from your topic. _Any_ university would be crazy _not_ to want you on staff. If I were one of those college kids, I would take your class in a heartbeat."

She grins shyly and then pulls him to her. She wraps her arms around him and brings her face as close to his as she can.

Her nose bumps his as she asks, "Truthfully? You would really take my class?"

"Every single one of them. I wouldn't even try to play hooky," he replies with a gentle smirk.

"_Well_, you know, the advantage to dating a college professor is that you're free to sit in anytime you want. All the lecture with none of the homework," she says quietly with coyly upturned lips.

"No homework, at all? That's disappointing. There's at least _one_ type of homework I think I'd _want you_ to assign to me," he tells her as his hand ambles up her back to rest on the nape of her neck.

She hums thoughtfully as her hands slide up his chest and over his shoulders. "What you're implying sounds more like _extra credit_ to me."

His chuckle comes from deep in his throat as he responds. "Actual extra credit saved my diploma in high school. Seems only fair that some version of it would do me a favor _now_ too."

"The sooner we get home, the sooner I can assign you something," Lucy says with a wink as she abruptly pulls away from him and tugs him down the sidewalk.

"Tease," Wyatt mutters laughingly as he trudges along behind her.

On the drive home, Lucy calls Amy and tells her about the offer. After a few minutes of listening to one side of the conversation, he's relieved when Lucy holds the phone between them and switches to speaker.

"So, what's the plan?" Amy asks. "Are you taking it?"

"I don't know, Ames. Working at S.F.S.U. would put me in the same circles as mom pretty frequently."

"That still happens at U.C.L.A.," Amy points out.

"Once," Lucy corrects her. "In a year, that's happened once. That wouldn't be the case if I took this job."

"Screw mom," Amy declares with a huff. "I have been telling you since you started at Stanford to work some place that appreciates you. Based on what you've just told me, it sounds like San Francisco State is that place."

Wyatt nods wordlessly before Lucy turns a halfhearted glare on him.

"Have something to add, Wyatt?" Lucy asks.

Amy laughs. "Is he nodding? Does he agree with me?"

"I don't know, Wyatt. Do _you_?" Lucy asks with a quirked brow.

He clears his throat with a nervous glance between Lucy and the phone. "I heard Winter's pitch, Luce. He didn't mention your last name or your mother. He talked about _you_. You told me once you felt like Stanford wanted the set, and I _know_ that U.C.L.A. has tried to leverage your relationship. That was your excuse for coming to visit me that first time. So, I don't know, I feel like if you want to be truly respected for _your_ work then S.F.S.U. sounds like the real deal."

"Exactly," Amy agrees. "I knew I would end up liking you, Wyatt Logan. Lucy, you love The Bay Area. You always have. You hate L.A. Don't you think it's time you stop letting mom keep you away?"

"Is that true?" He asks her in concern. "You hate L.A.?"

"Hate is a strong word," Lucy clarifies. "I _tolerate_ L.A." She gasps and then gives him a worried look. "If I did take it, what would that mean for your plan, Wyatt?"

"Nothing," he answers. "You'll still be in LA for the fall term and I'll be there with you."

Lucy begins to reply but her sister cuts her off.

"Wait!" Amy exclaims. "Wyatt's moving to _L.A.?_"

"Maybe," he answers. "I'm waiting on a decision from my boss."

"If I take the position at S.F.S.U. I'll have to be in the Bay Area by January," Lucy says slowly, as if neither he nor Amy had put that together already. "What happens in January? I leave you in L.A.? How is that going to be any different than our situation _now_?"

He grabs her hand and brings it to his lips. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. All I mean is that I shouldn't be what keeps you from taking that job."

"Why not?" She asks in irritation. "I'm the reason you're uprooting your whole life here and coming to L.A."

He sighs and gives her a tired smile. "Lucy, there's no _uprooting_. My life will still be just like it is now. It'll just have more of _you_ in it. Your decision is not the same as mine. It should be about _you_. Not me. Not your mom."

"Wyatt's right, sis. This could be everything you've ever wanted. Fuck everyone else and just focus on _yourself_. For once," Amy insists. "Really take the time to think about it."

"Fine," she agrees as she chews her bottom lip. "Okay, I will. You happy?"

"Yes, your annoying kid sister is very happy that you're taking the time to consider what _you_ want," Amy replies with dryly. "How dare I?"

Wyatt lets out a snorting chuckle and then shrugs in response to Lucy's glare.

"I'll see you Monday, Ames," Lucy replies. "Love you."

"Love you too," Amy says before disconnecting the call.

"You guys tag teamed me just now," Lucy says as she drops her phone into her purse. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"You'd better get used to it. We're your fan club. If tag teaming is the only way to get through to you then we're gonna do it," Wyatt tells her with a chuckle. "We just want you to do what feels right _for you_. That's all."

She reaches over and squeezes his thigh with a thankful expression. "I know."

* * *

Lucy feels completely exhausted by the time they arrive back at Wyatt's. She was not prepared for this day to be as potentially _life altering_ as it was. The adrenaline is fading and she can feel herself crashing rapidly.

She is half asleep in the passenger seat when she feels Wyatt's arm reach across her stomach. She blinks slowly and realizes that he's gotten out of the driver's side and she's failed to notice. Her door is open and Wyatt is leaning in, tenderly unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Come on, Professor," he says lovingly. "Let's get you inside and under the covers, hm?"

She nods sluggishly as she crawls out of the car. Wyatt grabs her tote out of the floorboard and once he stands she wraps herself around him. She barely feels a kiss through her hair as her head comes to rest on his shoulder. He unlocks the door from the garage to the kitchen, slings one arm around her waist, and then leads her inside.

Leaning on him feels too right. Apart from her mother, she's tried to maintain independence. She never trusted Jonas enough to lean on him. Not that he ever offered to take care of her the way Wyatt does. But with Wyatt, she doesn't even have to try. Trust in him just _comes,_ as naturally as breathing.

He sets her tote down on the couch and then directs her to his bedroom, and his extremely comfortable bed, with his arm around her shoulders. When or if he moves to Los Angeles, she hopes he brings this bed with him. She sits with half closed eyes and slips off her boots and her blazer. She's too tired to change into anything else.

Wyatt watches her with a softly amused expression and picks her blazer up off the foot of the bed. He tugs the comforter and the sheets back and waits for her to crawl under them. He tucks her in with a sweet kiss to her forehead before hanging her blazer up in his closet.

She feels the mattress shift and his arms go around her as she falls asleep. The thoughts that follow her are all of him and future days just like this one.

Several hours later, she wakes up with her legs tangled in Wyatt's and her face pressed into his neck. Her arms are around him with one of his hugging her to him. His chin is resting on top of her head, but he's not asleep. His breathing isn't deep enough and she thinks his other hand is holding a book. Or at least she _thinks_ she sees an open book binding in his hand out of the corner of her eye.

The house is quiet except for the few creaking sounds of the house settling, there's golden afternoon sunlight peeking through his blinds, and his bed is flawlessly cozy as a result of their body heat. In short, the world feels _peaceful_.

It's been a long time since _her_ world felt like this. In fact, she could track it back to the last Christmas she spent with her father. She is happy _here_ with Wyatt. In his bed and his house and a city she somehow still considers her own. In this moment, she is _dreading_ going back to L.A. She is _dreading_ being apart from him.

She lifts her head from his shoulder to get a good look at him in the afternoon sunlight. She was right. He _is_ reading. An Ian Fleming novel. _Live and Let Die_.

"British lit fan?" She asks in a voice hoarse from sleep.

He lowers the rumpled paperback to smirk at her. "James Bond fan."

"Funny," she says with a fond smile. "When most guys say that, they have no idea there _are_ books."

"Well, then _those guys_ are missing out," Wyatt tells her. "One of my buddies in basic read these books. He leant me one once and I've never looked back."

"Looks like that copy's seen better days," she says as she lifts a hand to skim over the worn and wrinkled cover.

"This one came with me every deployment. It's as damaged as me," Wyatt says with a self deprecating chuckle.

"Not damaged," Lucy corrects him as she moves her hand from the book cover to his jaw. "Well worn. There's a difference. When something is well worn, it's given parts of itself for a worthwhile cause. That's _you_, Wyatt. Not damaged. _Well worn_."

He turns his head to kiss her palm. "I wish I could see myself the way you see me."

"I could say the same to you," she confesses. "But maybe that's why this works as well as it does. We trade encouragement."

"I like that arrangement," he agrees as he sets his book aside and then slides down into the sheets next to her. "Those are fair terms, I'd say."

Now that he's tucked under the covers with her, they're able to be eye to eye and nose to nose.

"I want to live in the same place as you," Lucy tells him with a soft smile.

"We will," he replies.

"We went from no options to too many options," she says with a dark chuckle.

"This is not an either-or situation, Luce," he says as she feels his hand under her chin. He lightly touches his lips to hers before he continues. "I can go to L.A. until January."

"You think Mason will just let you transfer back and forth like that?" Lucy asks with concern. It seems like a lot to assume.

"Maybe. I don't know. I'd have to talk to him about it," he admits. "Hopefully, it's just as easy to move operations back to San Francisco as it is to move them to L.A."

"And if it isn't?" She asks fearfully.

"Lucy…"

"If it isn't we end up right back where we started," she states when he refuses to answer. "Just _reversed_."

"Just for a second," he says with a wan smile. "Forget about you and me."

"No."

He chuckles but it sounds a bit like a frustrated groan. "Preston, you're killing me. Humor me?"

She bites back another no and nods. She doesn't want to forget about Wyatt. Not even hypothetically. He's a part of her life now and that's just how it has to be.

"Do you want the job?" He asks.

She hesitates and she can see in his eyes that he knows precisely why she's hesitant.

"You said you would humor me," he reminds her.

"It doesn't mean that I don't want to live with—"

"I know," He says, cutting her off with a firm stare. "Do you want the job, Professor?"

She tries to hold back the answer but it explodes from her before she can. "Yes!"

The tension in her chest releases and she blows out a breath as she rolls onto her back.

"It's my dream job, Wyatt." Her eyes meet his and she knows he can read regret in them. He's very good at reading what she feels. "I've had an offer like this once before. After my first year at Stanford. It was a small local school several states away. I really wanted to take it."

"What stopped you?" He asks. Though she has a feeling he already knows her answer.

"My mother," she admits with a tearful sigh. "You can't leave Stanford. You can't leave _me_." She's quoting her mother from memory. At the time she felt nothing but guilt for even entertaining the idea but now looking back she feels anger. Her mother used her love and loyalty against her. It was a low blow. "Amy tried to convince me to take it but I—I felt so awful at the idea of leaving mom when all she wanted was for us to work together. It was her dream and I felt like...I felt like I owed her. She raised me. She introduced me to history. So I turned it down. Amy didn't speak to me for a week. She was so disappointed. Honestly, so was I."

His hand cups her cheek and his thumb skims across her cheek bone. "I'm not gonna be disappointed in you, Lucy. Whatever you decide, you have my support. But it needs to be _your _decision. Not mine or Amy's or your mother's. _Yours_. You just told me that you want this job. That it's a _dream_ job. Last time, your mom stopped you. So, what's stopping you now?"

Her eyes start to water and she closes them tight to fight off the tears. "My mother again and...and you, Wyatt. If I stay at U.C.L.A. our plan becomes so much easier."

"You're not wrong," he replies. "And if that's really what you want to do then we'll do it. But there's one question you seriously need to think about."

"What's that?"

"Can you live with the what-ifs?" He asks. "It sounds like you have one bothersome what-if already. If you turn this down will you add it to your list? If it's going to become a missed opportunity then you shouldn't turn it down."

"But—"

He silences her with a kiss. Slow and deep. When he pulls back he presses his forehead to hers. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll figure you and me out. We'll just have to do that one problem at a time. That's all."

He looks completely untroubled by all of it. She wants to be comforted by it, and she is for the most part, but another part of her finds it irksome. "Your sense of calm is super annoying."

He laughs and pulls her into his chest. "If I'm calm it's because I know what I want and I know we'll make it happen. Hell, if you want me to stay here while you finish up at U.C.L.A. I will. The long distance thing has me climbing up the walls but I would keep doing it until January if that would make things easier on you. You could say you wanted to move in here, screw the fall semester, and I'd have half the house cleared out by tomorrow or that you wanted both of us in L.A.— Or declare we're going back to Myrtle Beach to hide from everyone and everything. Wherever or whenever. It doesn't matter. I'll do anything I can to keep us together — to make this happen. So, yeah, I'm calm. This is nothing, and we'll work it out. It's you and me. Preston and Logan. Lucy and Wyatt. That's all we need."

She closes her eyes while he talks, committing his words to memory. They soothe and thrill her all at once. "That's all we need?"

He nods and presses his lips to her temple. "My home is where you are, Luce. Not the city we live in."

The tears she tried to hold at bay earlier are back when she meets his eyes with incredulity. "Are you saying that _I'm_ your home?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Professor. Home means you're with me," he tells her with his own watery eyes. "So, take the time you need. Think about this job and what _you_ want. Whatever you decide, I'll be there. Alright?"

"Alright," she concurs with a slow nod. "You're my home too, you know?"

"I do now," he answers with a tiny smirk. "I love you."

She doesn't think she will ever get tired of hearing him say those three words. "I love you too."

She has one week to decide their future. It's fine. It's not a huge deal _at all_. She doesn't feel even the slightest bit of pressure. _Lies._ It's not fine. It is a huge deal. And she's _freaking out_.

"Ugh, I'm taking the rest of the weekend off from thinking," she declares a moment later as she buries her face in his chest. "For right now, I just want to enjoy being here with you."

"Fine by me," he agrees. "Let's lay here and ignore the world for another twenty-four hours. How's that sound?"

"Like paradise," she replies as she snuggles deeper into him.

So that's exactly what they do.


	16. 15 Love Her

**A/N: **Second to last chapter! Also the last bit of Wyatt POV. So this chapter will essentially wrap up his emotional journey.

Just one more chapter and the epilogue to go!

BTW - smut warning. This chapter is not so safe for work.

Happy Reading!

angellwings

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Love Her

* * *

"Drive me crazy, make me mental.

No other buttons she can push.

One second she's Miss Sentimental,

Then she's afraid she's said too much.

Opposites attract and we're the living proof of this,

But I keep on comin' back like a magnet.

Cause when you love her,

No matter the fight you know she's always right,

And that's alright.

And they say love can hurt,

But seeing her smile will get you every time.

Yeah, every time,

Because you love her."

-"Love Her" by The Jonas Brothers

* * *

After last week, she's dreading a week without Wyatt. She's dreading it even more when she wakes up Monday with her period.

The bright side is that it means she's not pregnant. Though, aside from a handful impulsive instances, she and Wyatt are always careful so she was never really worried. However, starting on the day she leaves him feels like a bad omen.

Regardless, it spins her off into twenty-four hours of depression and frustration. It's a result of hormones and emotions but it keeps her in bed from the time she walks in her apartment door until her alarm goes off Tuesday morning.

Tuesday is a bit better. She forces herself out of her apartment and goes to her office to work. She's a couple of productive days away from finishing the final chapter of her book and submitting it to her editor. Once she does that it'll be time to focus on her fall semester.

She's packing up for the day when her phone rings with a FaceTime call.

Her mood considerably brightens at the name on the screen and she eagerly answers.

"Hey!" She greets brightly.

"Hey," Wyatt replies.

She can tell he's just left work. His collar is unbuttoned and his tie is loose. His jacket is nowhere to be seen and with one wave of his hand she can tell he's rolled up his sleeves. He looks _insanely _good as he walks with the front facing camera on.

"Where are you?" Lucy asks curiously.

"Stopping by the store on the way home. _Somebody_ used all my coffee creamer this weekend," he answers with a pointed look.

"Well, maybe if you kept your kitchen stocked with tea _somebody_ wouldn't use your creamer at all," she replies with a smirk.

"That's easily fixable," Wyatt says with a nod. "Any other requests?"

She smiles fondly at him and feels a slight blush on her cheeks. "Are you including _me_ in your shopping?"

He shrugs and mirrors her smile. "You're in my house enough. Might as well."

She shakes her head at him with a disbelieving chuckle. "You are too sweet."

He blushes slightly and rolls his eyes. "The fact that you find something as simple as this so shocking, makes me wonder how Jonas the Jagoff got as far with you as he did. He certainly didn't _deserve_ to."

"He had my mother in his corner," Lucy answers with a huff. "And she's the master manipulator. Anyway," she says, wanting to change the topic. "Did you make your presentation to Mason today? About the L.A. office?"

"I did," Wyatt replies. The lighting changes as he enters the store and grabs a shopping cart. "I should have a decision by the end of the week. I think it went well, though. Any progress on your decision about S.F.S.U.?"

"Still as conflicted as I was before," she states with a tired sigh. "I'm trying to focus on the book right now, and then the fall semester. I'm hoping a decision will just _come to me_ in the middle of work."

"Interesting strategy," Wyatt says with a muted chuckle. "I wish you luck."

"Thanks. That's the best I've got right now."

"I'm coming to you this weekend, right?" He asks.

She nods and grins broadly. "Yes, you are. And since you're including me in your shopping, I should probably include you in mine. Text me any requests you have later. I'm going to the store tomorrow."

"Will do, ma'am." He stops moving and his eyes widen as turns his attention to a shelf. "Holy shit this is a lot of tea. Herbal, black tea, Oolong? What the hell is Oolong? Green tea. Okay I know that one and it's gross."

Her laughing brings his attention back to the screen.

"You think this is funny?" He asks with a smirk.

"A little," she says, laughingly.

"How many flavors of black tea can there be?" Wyatt asks as he turns the camera to rear facing to show her the selection. "Irish Breakfast, English Breakfast — what's the difference? Earl Grey? Hot Cinnamon Spice? Chai?" The camera faces him again as his brow furrows at the selection. "Coffee is so much simpler. There's just..._coffee_."

"Stop being such a _man_," Lucy insists with a mirthful grin. "Get a box of English Breakfast tea. And do you see any Lemon Chamomile?"

"Lemon what-now?" He asks as he grabs a box from the shelf.

"Chamomile," she repeats with a chuckle.

"Gimme a half hour to comb through all these boxes and _maybe_," Wyatt declares dramatically.

She rolls her eyes at him in begrudging amusement as she waits.

"Got it! Lemon Chamomile. Anything else?"

"That Hot Cinnamon Spice you mentioned sounds good," she adds with a nod.

"It's in a fancy tin," he says with a grimace. "What's wrong with a box? Is this tea too high maintenance for a box?"

She laughs loudly and covers her brow with a hand as she shakes her head. "Just put the tea in the cart, Wyatt."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies with a teasing grin. "Anything else I should keep in stock for you?"

"Poptarts," she says immediately. "Blueberry and cherry."

He makes a disapproving face but nods dutifully. "Not a good breakfast but okay."

"Did I ask for your opinion, Master Sergeant?"

He quirks a brow at her and his eyes darken very slightly. "That's an unfair tactic, Preston. Using my rank when you're 400 miles away is a low blow. I'm gonna have to make you pay for that this weekend."

His steely tone sends a thrill up her spine and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to stifle a wanton whimper. Once her reaction is under control, she gives him a coy smile.

"Looking forward to it, Logan."

She's looking forward to it _so much_ that the rest of the week passes excruciatingly slowly.

But just as starting her period on Monday was indicative of a bad day, finishing it a day early, on Thursday, should have allowed her to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It does not. When the light arrives it nearly blinds her.

She finishes her book on Wednesday and submits it to her editor on Thursday morning. The first person she wants to call to celebrate is Wyatt, but she holds off. His lunch isn't for another few hours. So she calls Amy instead and they gush back and forth for several minutes before Amy asks an oddly leading question.

"Have you heard from Wyatt today?" She asks.

"No. I was going to call him while he was on lunch."

"Oh, I have it on good authority you'll hear from him before then."

Her eyes narrow on her desk as she takes in Amy's words. "What do you know?"

"I just got a text from a trusted source. I'm sure you'll hear soon enough," Amy replies. "I should go so your phone line is open."

"Who's your source?" Lucy asks suspiciously.

"A _tall_, very charming, former Delta Force soldier that's a mutual acquaintance of both us and Wyatt Logan."

Lucy blinks into the distance in surprise. "Wait! You've been texting _Dave_? For how long?"

"A week or so," she says casually. "It's no big deal."

No, it is. It is a big deal. "Amy, Dave isn't your usual guy. Be careful with him."

"Believe me. I'm aware. I promise I'm being cautious. He's..._nice_."

Lucy's brows rise curiously. She's never heard her sister use that tone before. She's not even sure what that tone _means_. "Nice?"

There's a pause before she reluctantly clarifies. "Mature?" She sounds unsure as if she's not positive what she means. "Secure, maybe? I don't know, Luce. He's just...attractively different. I can't really explain it. The guys I usually date are thrill seekers or very clearly in it for a temporary high. They're...aimless. Which was fun for awhile but I don't want that forever. Myrtle Beach didn't satisfy as much as other trips. I mean Gavin was just..._fine_. Not great, but fine. And I don't think it was him. I think it was _me_."

Lucy barely restrains her glee. She loves her baby sister exactly as she is, but she worries sometimes that Amy's nomad ways are going to hurt her in the long run. She would never tell her to grow up. Growing up is the worst. Even Lucy isn't fully "grown up", but she would advise her to find some place to put down roots.

Or maybe not a _place_. Maybe _people_. A family in addition to Lucy. Blood or otherwise.

Amy has never lacked for friends. She's social and hilarious and very charming, but she's never really had a _close _friend aside from Lucy. Her sister deserves to have a dedicated support system. Maybe Amy is finally seeing that for herself. Maybe she's through wandering the world and wants to find a _home_.

"Well," Lucy says as she tries to play it cool. "Then maybe it's time for a change. Maybe it's time to try something new — stable. Stability doesn't always mean boring, you know."

"It felt that way while we were growing up sometimes," Amy admits softly. "Especially after dad…**.** I don't know. I just didn't want to be either of our parents. Mom is so uptight and focused on the family image and dad was chained to that because of _her_, even though he hated all of that legacy stuff mom spouted. I didn't want to be trapped by responsibility and I didn't want to lose myself trying to please others. I was afraid staying with one person for too long would make that inevitable."

"We don't have to be _them_, Ames. Just because they're our parents doesn't mean we're doomed to repeat their mistakes," Lucy assures her.

"I'm slowly beginning to understand that, I think," Amy answers with a contemplative sigh. "I really like Dave. So far, anyway, and I don't want to let mom or dad get in my way. I don't want to trip over my past anymore, you know?"

_I don't want to trip over my past anymore_.

Wow, did Lucy ever relate. Yes, she knows. She knows exactly what that feels like.

"You and me both, sis," Lucy says with a determined nod, even though she knows Amy can't see it.

She says goodbye to her sister and no sooner had they hung up than her phone rings again. This time with Wyatt's name and picture instead of Amy's. This must be the news her sister teased. She answers the video call and is shocked to see both Wyatt and Dave sitting in his Charger with a gas pump visible beyond one of the windows.

"Hi?" She says with a confused expression. "Where are you?"

"Is every call gonna start that way now?" Wyatt asks with a crooked smile. "That's exactly how you opened the call on Tuesday."

"Stop calling me from weird locations and I'll ask something else," she tells him as she waves at his passenger. "Hey, Dave!"

He nods at her. "Hey, Lucy."

"So," Lucy says as she looks between the two men. "Amy said you have news?"

Wyatt looks disappointed and then turns a reproachful look on Dave. "Dude, seriously?"

Dave blushes and shrugs. "What? She pulled it out of me! She's seriously _sneaky_!"

"It's true," Lucy agrees with a chuckle. "You can't really blame him, Wyatt. Amy's highly skilled at getting the information she wants from people. So, what's the news?"

"We're halfway to you," Wyatt reveals with an adorable grumbly pout. "Not as much fun revealing that now."

"Wait, _what_?" She asks with wide eyes and an equally wide smile. "It's ten in the morning, Wyatt. That means you'll be here sometime around one or two?"

He nods and smirks at her. "Should be, yeah. We have a meeting with the new staff at the L.A. office this afternoon, but Dave and I are free for dinner so we thought we might pick you and Amy up. Our treat."

"A meeting at the L.A. office?" She asks eagerly. "Does that mean—"

He cuts her off with a vigorous nod. "Mason approved the plan. I'll be working out of Los Angeles for the next six months, at least."

"Oh my God."

It's happening. Their plan is actually happening!

"When?" Lucy asks excitedly.

"The office officially opens in two weeks, I need to be there the week before to iron out any kinks," he tells her with a bright smile.

"One week? You'll be here, semi-permanently, in one week?"

That feels like both too much _and_ not enough time. Are they going to live in her tiny apartment? She has _no_ kitchen. And no where for his car. And what about his—

"I can see you thinking, Professor," Wyatt says with an affectionate but stern expression. "Put a pin in it. We'll talk about all of it after dinner tonight."

How does he _do_ that? He just looks at her and he _knows_.

"It freaks me out a little bit when you do that, you know?"

He chuckles softly and nods. "I do know. You do that to me too." He winks and then glances down at his watch. "We should get back on the road. Wouldn't want to be late for dinner with the Prestons, would we?"

"You better not be," she tells him as she squints dangerously at her phone screen.

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," Wyatt agrees with a mock salute. "I'll call you when we're close. See you soon."

"See you soon," she says as the call ends.

By the time she dusts off last semester's syllabus and finishes updating it, the work day is over and it's time to go home. She's back in her apartment in no time flat and almost done getting ready when Amy shows up.

Amy's dress is shorter and more form fitting than Lucy's gauzy white maxi-dress, but she earns Amy's approval with the gold beaded details across the fitted waistline and the halter neck that leaves most of her back exposed.

"Jesus, Luce," Amy says with a proud grin. "Are you trying to _kill_ him?"

"It'll be an enjoyable death, at least," Lucy replies with a wolfish smirk as she finishes strapping on her wedge heels. She stands and twirls in front of her sister. "Good?"

"Sis, you look like a goddess of the Katharine Hepburn variety. All class and wit and elegance," Amy replies with a thumbs up. "I wholeheartedly support this look, and should you and Wyatt need to leave early I will completely understand."

"I may take advantage of that understanding," Lucy replies with a chuckle. "One part of our plan has come together and I feel like celebrating."

"You _should_ celebrate. You and Wyatt are going to be in the same place for a while," Amy agrees with a warm smile. "Aren't you glad I talked you into a vacation? If it weren't for me you still wouldn't know Wyatt Logan existed."

That thought is truly _awful_. Trying to imagine the last two months without Wyatt physically _hurts_.

"As usual," Lucy says with a grateful glance at her sister. "You were right."

"I know," Amy says with proud smirk. "It's nice to hear it out loud though."

Lucy's phone chimes from her coffee table and she hurriedly checks it. It's Wyatt telling her that he and Dave are in the elevator, on their way up.

She's buzzing in anticipation. It's been less than a week since she's seen Wyatt but it _feels_ as if it's been a month. She wonders if the anticipation she feels every time she sees him will fade when he becomes a daily part of her life. Somehow, she doesn't think so.

* * *

"You have been a miserable bastard all week," Dave says with an amused snort. "But the _minute_ we step in Lucy's building you're a totally different guy. The staff at the L.A. office probably thinks you're a tyrant."

"I couldn't have been _that_ bad," Wyatt protests.

"You could've and you were," Dave tells him. "Maybe bring in coffee and donuts on your first actual day so they don't all hate you."

Wyatt grunts and glowers, but files the advice away. Dave is probably right. His employees at the office were keeping him from Lucy so he may have come off a little _short_ with them. Treating to coffee and donuts may not be a horrible idea.

The door opens just as Wyatt reaches to knock and suddenly he's crushed in a flurry of blonde exuberance.

"Wyatt Logan!" Amy exclaims. "Long time, no see. Glad to see you're taking my text _seriously_ because I wasn't bluffing. Just F.Y.I."

"I am well aware that you don't bluff. You'd have to have a filter for that," he replies teasingly as she pulls him into the apartment.

He misses the awkward exchange of a hug between Amy and Dave because standing on the far end of the room is _Lucy_. She's a regal vision in white and gold with bright red lips.

Not formal, but not casual. Just absolutely breathtaking. She seems to cross the room in slow motion, her wavy hair bouncing slightly as she approaches him. His hands are drawn to her waist by some invisible force as soon as she's within reach. Her arms go around his neck as she grins at him victoriously.

"I take it by your slack jaw that you like the dress?" She asks with a short cheeky giggle.

Forget Dave and Amy, he closes the distance between them and seals a heated and intrusive kiss against her crimson lips.

When he finally pulls away to breathe he addresses her question. "Yes," he replies in a husky tone. "I _love_ the dress."

"I'm so glad," she says through darkened, hazy eyes. She brings a hand to his lips and smirks as she wipes the lipstick off of his mouth. She leans toward his ear to whisper. "I hope you'll love taking it off of me later too."

Oh, he _absolutely_ will.

"Before you two maul each other in the living room, we should probably go," Amy says with a teasing roll of her eyes. She doesn't wait for an answer but instead grabs Dave's hand and pulls him out the door and down the hallway.

Lucy idly straightens his collar that she crushed during their kiss and then nods toward the door. "She's right. We should go. Or else I might just decide to forget dinner all together."

"There are worse ideas," Wyatt replies with a smirk.

"Dinner was _your_ plan," Lucy reminds him. "Besides we have something to celebrate. We _should_ do something special. We'll have the whole weekend to be locked up in my apartment, but tonight is the start of a big step forward."

"I completely agree," he says as he wraps one of his hands around hers and then tugs her toward the door. "Besides, you should show off that dress _before_ it ends up on the floor."

She laughs and swats at his shoulder. "You have no shame."

"No, not when it comes to you," he agrees with a wink.

Dinner does prove interesting, however. Mostly because he and Lucy have an all access pass for the Dave and Amy show. Technically, tonight is their first date _and_ their first time meeting in person. Both of those things come with some inherent awkwardness. They're past the first date questions which makes getting the conversation started a little difficult. Wyatt decides to help them out.

"Dave will be with me here in Los Angeles during the week leading up to the office opening," Wyatt tells Amy pointedly. "The whole week."

Amy grins slowly at Dave. "That whole week?"

"Yeah, I'm training the guy who'll be doing my job in this city's office. That way Wyatt can focus on getting the east coast offices organized," Dave admits bashfully before giving Wyatt a silencing glare. "I was going to tell you after dinner, when we were _alone_."

"Why?" Amy asks with a lopsided grin. "Were you going to ask me out? Cause I have no issues with you asking now."

Dave looks taken aback but pleased. "Oh—Okay. I was thinking we could hang out. Dinner or drinks, maybe?"

"Make it both," Amy insists. "Dinner _and _drinks, and it better be on more than one night since you're here for a whole week."

Dave gives Amy a soft amused smile and chuckles. "Yes, ma'am."

Lucy rolls her eyes and throws a bit of balled up paper napkin at Dave. "You Delta Force guys and your 'ma'am's."

Amy's grin turns flirtatious as she catches Dave's eye and then turns back to her sister. "He can call me ma'am all he wants. I'm absolutely on board with that."

"Well, at least one Preston can admit she likes it," Wyatt says as he smirks at Lucy. "Lucy's still in denial."

"Just because you don't like my answer doesn't mean I'm in denial," Lucy says with a shake of her head and a light laugh.

From that point on conversation never stops. Dave laughs more than Wyatt's ever seen him and that's saying a lot. Bam-Bam has always been more open with his emotions than Wyatt. He laughs easier, but not this loud or this often. Somehow they land on the topic of Fiona, Dave's daughter, and Amy gushes over every picture in Dave's wallet. It's clear that Amy already adores her. Dave breathes a sigh of relief and visibly relaxes. After dinner and dessert, both he and Lucy can tell that Dave and Amy are holding their breath for a moment alone.

It's Lucy that helps them out this time. "Well," she says. "Wyatt and I have a few things to discuss so we're going to head out. But you two feel free to stay at this table and talk _as long as you want._"

"Subtle, Luce," Amy says with a laugh and a roll of her eyes.

"What can I say?" Lucy replies with a shrug as she waves a hand toward Amy. "I learned from the best."

They say their goodbyes and leave Amy and Dave behind. Dinner likely started awkwardly because it was a double date. Things might be easier for them if Lucy and Wyatt butt out completely. Lucy echoes this thought back to him on the drive to her apartment.

"Guys as nice and normal as Dave are new for my sister," Lucy tells him with a chuckle. "I'm not sure that she really knows what to do with herself around him."

"I think it's the same for Dave. He dates, but I don't think he's ever had a relationship that's lasted for longer than a few weeks. Once they're told about Fi, they don't seem to stick around for long. I think he expects every date to run for the hills as soon as the pictures come out of his wallet," Wyatt says with a dim smile. "The fact that Amy didn't means she's different. It's going to be a little strange for him too."

"I'm sure they'll figure it out," Lucy says with a serene smile. "We made it through, so can they."

Wyatt lets his eyes drift over her a few minutes before he turns them back to the road. Lucy's seemed different the entire evening and he thinks he's just now figured out why.

"You look _happy_, Lucy. Truly happy."

Not that she's never looked happy before, but tonight she's..._resplendent_.

She blinds him with her smile and then reaches across the middle console to pat his thigh. "I _am_ happy, Wyatt. I know we have things to figure out but for once in my life I—I feel like things are exactly as they should be. For tonight, at least, all is right with my world. I'm truly _content_, and I haven't been content in far too long. For the first time in over a year, I'm planning for the future instead of dwelling on the past and it feels _great_."

He nods slowly and brings the back of her hand to his lips. "I know exactly what you mean."

She's right. They've both spent far too long thinking about their past mistakes but with each other they're able to move on and build a future _together_. They're healing each other. He knows he could have lived his life without Lucy but it would have been a half life. He never would have grown as much as he has the last two months and he never would have felt quite as fulfilled as he does now. He needs to remember to thank everyone at Mason Industries for nagging him to take that vacation. They were right. He did need it. He needed that vacation as much as he currently needs Lucy Preston.

They arrive back at her place and Lucy immediately takes off her shoes and then pads her bare feet into the kitchen, dress barely dragging the floor, for a glass of wine. When he joins her in the kitchen she puts a bottle of his favorite beer in his hand. He smiles warmly and nods his thanks. So, she did actually do that shopping she told him about this week.

"So," she says as she leans her hip against the kitchen counter. "You're moving here in a _week_."

"One week," he repeats.

"What _the hell_ are we thinking?" Lucy asks with a dry chuckle. "That's not enough time."

"I'm keeping the house, Luce. So there's no rush. We have all the time we need," he assures her.

"You're keeping it?" She asks with a relieved expression.

He nods and leans against the counter in front of her. "I've been wanting to fix it up for a while now. This seems like my chance. Once it's fixed up I can get higher rent for it or maybe sell it. Or hell maybe we'll move back into it someday. Regardless, it needs work. So, if I need to store my things there for a while I can. We don't have to rush it."

"About that," Lucy says with a nervous breath. "Do you think we should live _here_? I mean, this place is great for just me but it's a bit small for two people." She gestures to the room around her. "This kitchen is a closet and you actually _like _to cook so—"

"I want to live wherever you want to live, Luce," he insists as he meets her eyes with a decisive glance. "If you want a new place, we'll find one. If you like this one, then we'll stay. Your city, your choice."

She smiles softly at him and shakes her head. "Not just my city anymore, Wyatt. It's yours too."

He grins and rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I do, but I think you just helped me make my decision," she tells him. "We're getting a new place. _Together_. I don't want us to think in terms of yours or mine when it comes to our home. Not anymore. We need a new neutral space," she declares confidently before smiling brightly at him again. "And maybe something with a garage."

He laughs lightly and sets his beer aside. His hands drift to her hips and pull her against his chest. "You are really worried about my car, aren't you?"

"Well, you love your car and I love you so _yes_," Lucy replies with an amused grin as she sets her wine glass next to his beer.

"You don't have to worry about the Charger," he replies, giving her a fond look. "Worse comes to worst, Bam-Bam's offered to store it and keep it running for me."

"I don't like the idea that you might leave it behind," she tells him with a sigh.

"Lucy, it's really not a big deal. Besides, it might just be for six months. That was the agreement Mason and I came to."

Her brow furrows and she nods. "Yeah, about that. Why only six months?"

He shrugs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just in case you decide to take that position at S.F.S.U. I wanted to have a way back to San Francisco if we needed it. My contract for the L.A. office ends in March and spring semester would start in January which would leave us just over two months apart. That's doable."

"I haven't decided yet, Wyatt." She sounds as confused about it as ever.

"I know," he says. "But you will and I refuse to be a reason you might turn it down. This way, you can make the choice that's best for _you_. You don't have to worry about what it might do _to us_ because we're already prepared for it. We have a part two of our plan ready for whatever decision you make."

She shakes her head at him with wonder and gratitude written plainly on her face.

He feels her hands in his hair as she replies. "You are one of three people in my life who has tried to take care of _me_. Do you know that? There was my dad and my sister, and now _you_. That's just...remarkable to me. Why are you so good to me?"

"Because I am hopelessly in love with you, ma'am. Besides, you've had enough people try to control you, Luce. I won't be a part of that, even incidentally," he promises. "All I want is to help and support."

"Well, you're off to a great start, soldier," she says with a satisfied sigh as she rests her forehead against his. "And I'm hopelessly in love with you too."

He dips his head very slightly and they smile into a kiss. His hands move from her hips to her back, that is delightfully bare thanks to her _perfect_ dress. He runs a light touch up her spine. Lucy whimpers before she softly bites his bottom lip, drawing him deeper into the kiss. Her hands trail over his shoulders and his chest until he feels her fingers unbuttoning his linen shirt.

He smirks against her lips. One of his hands reaches for the halter that's tied behind Lucy's neck and the other closes around her skirt and slides the wispy material up, rucking one side at her hip. He quickly finds out that a bra isn't the _only_ underwear Lucy decided to do without this evening.

His pulls back from her kisses just long enough for a hoarse curse. "Holy shit, Lucy. You've not been wearing _any _underwear the _entire_ night?"

"It's a white dress and all my nude underwear is in the wash. All my others kept showing through the—"

Her sentence is cut short when his fingers find her center and swirl around the bundle of nerves nestled between her thighs. She whimpers and releases his shirt to grip the edge of the countertop next to her.

"Wyatt," she mutters through a breathy moan.

The discovery of just how naked she's been under that dress all evening distracts him from untying the top of the dress. Turning her around and pressing her into the counter is suddenly much more interesting.

Her hands have a deathgrip on the lip of the counter as his hands continue to massage her and dip further down to tease her entrance. She's panting and whimpering as she moves against his hand. The front of her is molded to wooden cabinets while _he's _molded against _her_ back. His arousal is straining through his slacks. He knows the minute she feels him pressed to her backside. She gasps and rocks backward into him.

"Fuck," he swears against the shell of her ear. "You do that again and I'm done for. I've got something in mind that I'm gonna need my, uh, _composure _for, Professor. But first, I see to _you_."

He moves his hand faster and then slips his other hand underneath the top of the dress. Her nipples are pebbled already. He alternates palming her breast with gently flicking the hard peak. She cries out and leans her head back to rest on his shoulder.

He thrusts one finger into her. He curls it, retreats, and then thrusts again.

"Oh, _God_, yes," she whispers hungrily. "Wyatt, _yes_."

He can't see the darkness in her eyes from this position but he can damn well hear it in her voice. It spurns him on until she's groaning loudly and then clenching all around him. He keeps going, keeps pushing her further. Finally, she lets out a sound between a sob and a shout before sagging against him, boneless with pleasure.

While she catches her breath he finishes what he initially set out to do and unties the top of her dress. He trails kisses across her shoulder while he finds the zipper on the side of the dress. He pulls the tab and, as it hits the edge of the track, the dress cascades down Lucy's body like a waterfall of white and gold. It pools at her feet on the kitchen floor.

Slowly, she turns to face him. As soon as she does her hands go back to his shirt. His shirt, pants, and boxers join her dress on the kitchen floor. She kisses and nips across his chest as she helps him undress.

"If that's the reaction I get when I don't wear underwear then I'm throwing away all my underwear _right now_," Lucy tells him with a teasing grin before kissing a trail up his neck and across the line of his jaw.

"That's completely appropriate for a history professor," he says with a dry laugh.

"Well behaved women rarely make history, Wyatt, and don't they always say to lead by example?" Lucy asks with a troublemaking grin. "I think it's long overdue for me to be a little wicked."

He quirks a brow at her. "Well, then who am I to question it? You do what you've got to do, Professor."

"Oh, I plan to," she says as she hops up on the kitchen counter.

She opens her knees and props her feet against the cabinets. Her fingertips find his biceps and slowly trail a line up the length of them until her hands clasp around his shoulders. Using her position against him, she yanks him toward her. Leaving him standing between her spread legs. The counter is at the perfect height for his hardness to meet her heated core, and his body is _very_ aware of that fact.

Her hand finds it's way in between them and wraps around him. She guides him to her but doesn't guide him _in_. She rubs the very tip of him up and down the entrance, teasing them _both_. The build up is excruciating. She knows exactly what she's doing because when he finally does sink into her it feels like coming _home_. He groans at the fulfillment being inside of her offers him and then grips her hips tightly.

Mentally replaying her sounds as he brought her to release and then the feeling of her playing with him just now has him on the verge of exploding before he's even moved. _Shit_. She does this to him _every time_. There's no controlling himself at this point.

His first movement is hard and fast. Lucy's hands reach behind her to brace against the upper cabinets. That becomes their pace. They're chasing release forcefully as if starved. Only neither of them are truly starved. The truth of it is, they're gluttonous for each other. They will never have enough.

He's holding her hips in a white knuckle grip as he reaches the end of him. Lucy's fingers tighten around the handles on the cabinets as her eyes focus on their connection. The position they're in opens them up visually in a way they haven't really been before, in a way that seems to heighten her excitement. Lucy's flushed from her hairline to her navel and heaving breaths that match his own. Her eyes only stray from the sight of him thrusting into her to meet his. They're the darkest he's ever seen them. Pupils blown to the point of swallowing her chocolate irises completely.

His hands on her hips having been keeping her still, to draw this out, but at the sight of those eyes he lets her go. She springs forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and locking her ankles behind him. Her lips clash against his as she starts to move with him. Her movements allow her to take him deeper and hit that sacred spot. The tension they've been building breaks spectacularly. The seal of their lips swallows their sounds as her release hits a split second before his own.

They twitch through aftershocks as their lips part and she sags against him again. This time with her naked chest to his and her lips kissing his sweat slicked neck.

She's panting between kisses and her hands are tracing circles on his back, soothing the melted muscles he knows she finds there.

"Window seat and kitchen counters of exactly this height," Lucy says through a breathy laugh. "That's our criteria for a new place. Deal?"

He drops a kiss to the side of head and nods, grinning brightly. "Deal."

"Holy shit," Lucy says as she forces herself to breath slowly. "That was amazing. Jesus."

He arches back to look at her face and tilts her chin up so her eyes meet his in curiosity. "Where does it rank? You seemed extremely enthusiastic about this particular position."

He winks and chuckles at her when she blushes a deep red. It will never stop amazing him how she's completely bold in the moment but sheepish about it when they're done. It's an amusing contradiction that belongs to only Lucy.

Her fingers card through his hair as she answers him with a crooked wolfish smirk. "Make Up Sex, Window Seat, Kitchen Counter, Our First Night, and the Front Wall Quickie are my top 5."

"Solid top 5," he says approvingly, bending to place a lingering kiss on her lips before he continues. "I would switch the Front Wall Quickie with Office Sex, but otherwise I agree."

"Of course you would," she says with a muted laugh.

"You in a pencil skirt and stilettos will _always_ do it for me, ma'am," he says as he playfully squeezes her ass.

"Guess I'll have to invest in more of them then," she says with a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. "Driving you crazy is too much fun."

"You're gonna get daily chances to do that very soon," he says with a playful eye roll. "And if that's your intention, I doubt I'll survive."

"Oh, you'll survive," she tells him with a quiet snicker. "I'll stay just shy of actually killing you. Promise."

"I would appreciate that, thanks."

"You and Dave are working tomorrow?" She asks as she severs their connection and hops off the kitchen counter.

He nods as she turns to the sink and washes her hands before picking up their discarded clothes. For a reason he can't quite figure out, his brain short circuits at the sight of Lucy doing totally normal things _naked_. He should keep going and tell her how long he'll be working, but the words don't come.

She seems to understand, though, and smiles patiently at him — folding his pants while she waits. "Wyatt? You okay?"

He shakes himself back to the present and feels his cheeks flush. "Yes, sorry. Fine. We're getting things organized tomorrow. Mostly paperwork. I should be done by four."

"Me too," Lucy replies as she leaves the kitchen and ducks into her small laundry room. She peeks back out with her nose scrunched and a shake of her head. "Not to the paperwork part. To the being done by four part."

He quirks and amused brow at her and snorts. "Yeah, I got that."

Her voice floats into the room as she disappears back on the other side of the doorway. "We should look at listings tomorrow night and try to visit a few places this weekend."

"Sounds like a plan," he agrees once she joins him again.

"Good," she replies.

She stands in front of him and her gaze lingers over him appreciatively, from head to toe. Her hands land on his shoulders and, in the next moment, she's jumping up and into his arms. He scrambles to catch her with a loud guffaw.

"Give a guy some warning first, Professor," he says as he adjusts to hold her more securely.

Her legs wrap around his waist while his arms lock around her back.

"That's no fun," she says with a bright smile. That smile turns sultry as she nods toward the hall that leads to her bedroom. "Now, take me to bed, Master Sergeant. I'm not done with you yet."

His eyebrows fly upward but he nods dutifully. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

He was joking before, but there's honestly a real chance he might not survive having Lucy Preston in his life day in and day out. He can't say he gives a damn. If that's how he goes out then it'll be a good death. Being able to wake up with her every morning and fall asleep with her every night is worth any and all risks.

He knows he's been on this earth for over thirty years, but right here and right now it feels like his life is _truly_ beginning.


	17. 16 Brave

**A/N: **Last chapter! Just the epilogue left to post at this point! I won't get all mushy until then, but I hope you guys enjoy this ending. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Thank you so much for continuing to read this story! Your support has been unbelievable!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Brave

* * *

"You can be amazing.

You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug.

You can be the outcast,

Or be the backlash of somebody's lack of love,

Or you can start speaking up.

Nothing's gonna hurt you the way that words do,

And they settle 'neath your skin.

Kept on the inside and no sunlight,

Sometimes a shadow wins,

But I wonder what would happen if you,

Say what you wanna say,

And let the words fall out,

Honestly, I wanna see you be brave."

-"Brave" by Sara Bareilles

* * *

Friday begins with Wyatt Logan in her bed and it's glorious. This time, though, she's the one that needs to get out of bed first. Next Wednesday marks one week until the start of the semester and today is their first faculty meeting. She can't be late. Wyatt also has a meeting today but not until the afternoon. He'll be leaving the apartment after her, and, despite the fact that they hope to be moving her out of here soon, it gives her an idea.

She slips out of bed, makes him a cup of coffee, and then sets it down next to him on his nightstand. She backs quietly away and then tries to stealthily search through her own nightstand drawer. She knows it's there somewhere. Finally, she finds it and then carefully places the object next to his coffee cup, hoping it's too obvious to miss.

She smiles fondly at this sleeping face and brushes the hair off of his forehead. In a little over a week she'll be waking up to him every day. What a breathtaking concept.

She smiles through getting ready (in the shower, while doing her make up, while picking out her outfit, all of it). And steps out of the bathroom to find Wyatt sitting up and staring at the small gift she left for him. He's holding it in the palm of his hand — not a single finger touching it.

He hears the bathroom door close and turns to find her eyes.

"Are you...are you giving me a key to your apartment?"

She bites her bottom lip nervously and nods. "I'm leaving for work and you don't have to leave for a while so I thought you might need a key. I mean, hopefully soon we'll have a new place and that key won't matter but, well, until then you need a way to get in and out, don't you?"

He crosses the room in two large strides and ambushes her with the hard press of his lips to hers. He has one hand on the back of her neck and the other fisted around the key. He pulls away with one last light brush of his lips against hers and then beams at her.

"Thank you," he replies, his eyes alight with joy.

She's so taken aback by his enthusiasm that she can only manage a two word response. "You're welcome."

She somehow leaves the apartment without dragging him back to bed after _that_ kiss and makes it to the office for her very boring meeting. After the meeting, the department chair stops her in the hall for a chat. She's never truly liked Brad Morris, but he's always been fair to her so she has no real reason to dislike him either. Well, except for cornering her into that Stanford event. That was low.

"Brad," Lucy says with a pleasant smile.

"Lucy," he responds with a nod. "How was your summer?"

"Productive. I finished my book. Yours?"

"Productive as well. I think I may have found something to help us to expand our research capabilities. It should help us with those research grants," he says with a large smile. Lucy doesn't trust that smile. She's not even sure why. She just doesn't.

"That's wonderful, Brad. Anything you'd like to share?" She asks curiously.

"Yes, but on Monday," he tells her. "I stopped you to ask if you would be free for a lunch meeting on Monday. I'd like to get started on it right away once I finish working it out this weekend."

"Absolutely," she replies as she buries her nerves under false confidence. "I've gotta admit I'm intrigued."

"I think it's going to be something of a win-win for everyone involved," he states vaguely with a grin. "See you then, Lucy."

She nods and waves and keeps her mouth shut tight. She has a million more questions but it's clear he won't be sharing today. She spends the rest of her day going over her syllabi and materials for both her upcoming classes and pushes all thoughts of her lunch with Brad out of her mind. She busies herself during her lunch break by going through listings online. She finds a few that seem interesting, but she knows from her last apartment hunt that not everything worth seeing is listed. So, she calls her realtor from her last move before she leaves the office for the day, and an appointment is scheduled for the morning.

Darcy, her realtor, is brilliant and conniving in a way Lucy could never be. She tells Darcy she'll email her any suggestions Wyatt comes up with when she gets home. But the realtor can't let the conversation end there. She is bubbly and vivacious and easily enthused.

"This is so exciting, Lucy! I didn't know you were dating again let alone that you had someone you wanted to cohabitate with! Don't you stress about a thing. I've already got leads on a few listings I think you might love. Oh, this is so exciting."

Lucy laughs and shakes her head. Darcy can't see it through the phone but Lucy knows she doesn't need to. "Calm down, Darce. It's apartment hunting not a bridal shower."

"Oh! Is that an option? Because I would throw you one in a heartbeat! If Amy would let me, that is."

Lucy blushes in mortification. She walked right into that one. "No, Darce. Not an option."

"...ever?"

"I—I don't know. We haven't talked about it. Let's just focus on the moving in for now. Okay? One relationship milestone at a time, please."

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll back off. But really, I'm just so happy for you! You deserve someone special, Lucy."

"Thank you. Alright, I've gotta go, Darce. I told Wyatt I'd be done by four so I should head out soon. I'll see you in the morning."

"Bright and early! I'll be knocking on your door with donuts and coffee! There's no way to avoid me. I know where you live."

Lucy rolls her eyes lets out a low laugh. "Are realtors supposed to threaten their clients with stalking? That sounds as if it's bordering on unprofessional."

"You're not a morning person. I'm simply doing what I have to do," the realtor warns her with an audible smirk. "Have a good night, Lucy."

"Good night," she says as she hangs up.

The rest of the night is beautifully average. She arrives home to find Wyatt has already gotten them take out, Italian, and several real estate listing books. He has everything ready and waiting on her coffee table for her.

He also has one more surprise. He hands her small envelope and then sits back on the couch to watch her open it, cool and collected as ever.

She drops the contents into her hand and finds a solid metal key. She knows immediately what it is. "Wyatt, you didn't have to—just because I gave you mine doesn't mean that I expected—"

"I know," he says, interrupting her stammering. He smiles peacefully at her and brings her hand to his lips. "I wanted to. You _should_ have a key to my house, Lucy. I _want you_ to have it."

Her stomach does an awkward thrilling flip and, for the first time since their video chat yesterday, it sinks in. She processes how real this has become. She's about to merge her life with his. They're going to find a space to share and make their own. She's under no impression that it will be easy, but she's looking forward to it anyway.

She dreaded it with Jonas. It felt like a trap, but with Wyatt…

With Wyatt it feels like an _adventure_.

True to her word, Darcy shows up the next morning at eight thirty on the dot with a tray of coffees and a box of donuts. It made introductions easy. Lucy could tell Wyatt was both overwhelmed and amused by Darcy.

She'd gotten their email the night before and merged Lucy's initial list with Wyatt's and threw in a few places that weren't currently listed that she thought they might like.

"Now, it's short notice so I don't know how much, if anything, will be move in ready. I'm also not sure what sort of lease we're looking at since Wyatt's contract is only for six months, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, let's focus on finding a place you both love," Darcy tells them both with a nod as she hands over an itinerary. "Just in case we get separated in traffic, here's a list of where we're going and when. Are we ready?"

Lucy and Wyatt mumble tired but affirmative responses and Darcy rolls her eyes with a quirked brow.

"Oh no, that won't work. I said—" she pauses and her volume nearly doubles. "—_are we ready?"_

Wyatt straightens on instinct at the sound of her voice and Lucy has to bite back a laugh as he stands at attention — like the soldier he once was. He shakes his head to clear the panic and then swears under his breath.

"Jesus, Darcy, were you a drill sergeant in another life? What was that?"

"Just checking to see if you're paying attention," Darcy replies with a smirk. "And _now_ I think we're ready."

The first place is in a very wealthy neighborhood, just barely in their price range, and somehow _smaller_ than Lucy's current apartment. But it does have a window seat and appropriately tall kitchen counters.

"This apartment would be good for one thing and not much else," Wyatt whispers to her with a smirk. "So, we'll keep it on the list just in case."

Lucy laughs and smacks his shoulder. "It's a shoe box. No amount of good sex is worth pathetic square footage. Sorry, soldier. It's a no-go."

The second place was on Wyatt's list and has a window seat, but short countertops. It has plenty of square footage, but the neighborhood is a bit worrisome. Plus, Lucy points out, the parking options would not accommodate his Charger.

"Lucy, I told you not to worry about my—"

"But I'm going to," she says, cutting him off. "You love that car, Wyatt, and you love working on it too. As much as I want to live with you, I don't want you giving up the things that make you who you are to make it happen. End of story."

He quirks a brow at her but eventually grins and nods. "Yes, ma'am."

The third place was on Lucy's list and seems passable. No private garage, but it does have a parking garage that would at least do a decent job of keeping Wyatt's Charger out of the elements. The kitchen is spacious and the floor plan is open aside from the one and only bedroom. Yes, only one bedroom. But it has one and a half baths. A half bath in the hall, and the master bath attached to the bedroom.

There's also a small window seat in the living room. It has nothing on Wyatt's but it's better than no window seat at all.

Lucy is about to ask the complex representative about lease terms and a move in date when Darcy holds up her hand to stop her. The petite platinum blonde is on the phone and offering up an occasional affirmative word.

"Bless you," she says into the phone before she hangs up and turns to face the complex representative in one swift motion. "Thank you for your time. We'll get back to you soon with any questions we may have."

She waves Wyatt and Lucy to the door. They exchange confused glances but follow her anyway. When they reach their cars, Darcy grabs the itinerary out of Wyatt's hands and jots down an address in between the current place and the next one.

"Put that in your phone," she instructs. "It's going on the market tomorrow, move in ready. Great neighborhood. I'm told the owners need to get rid of it quickly so they're willing to negotiate. They're going out of the country or something. Family emergency I think? Not that it matters for the two of you. It just gives me plenty of ammunition. Are the two of you set on renting? Would you consider buying? I ask because I bet I could get you a better deal if you bought it."

Darcy's going a mile a minute and Lucy's head is starting to spin. Thankfully, Wyatt notices and steps in.

"Um, maybe we should see the place _before_ we sign contracts?" Wyatt asks her with a grin.

"Oh! Right!" She exclaims as if she suddenly remembers none of them have seen this mystery place yet. "Sorry! I'm just excited. I'll meet you guys there."

They let her take off first and then slide into Wyatt's car.

Wyatt grabs her hand, squeezes it, and then releases her to start the car.

"Relax, Lucy, one step at a time. Don't let Darcy bombard you," he says soothingly. "We may not even like the place."

She nods slowly while breathing deeply. "You're right. You're totally right."

Just twenty minutes later, they're crossing the threshold and one thing becomes very clear.

_It's perfect_.

It's a townhouse, for one, not an apartment. It has a garage and a basement on the bottom floor, for another. And the final defining draw, a second bedroom with a window seat overlooking the minuscule front lawn. It's much smaller than Wyatt's house but about twice the size of Lucy's apartment. Two bedrooms, two baths. The kitchen isn't huge but it's not anywhere near as narrow as the kitchen in Lucy's apartment. It has a hook up for a washer and dryer and, wouldn't you know it, Wyatt owns a set of those. Lucy would no longer have to take her laundry to Amy's once a week.

(It's the machines in Amy's building or the laundromat down the block from her. The laundromat that's frequented by some of her students. She would rather her students never see her washing her underwear or her pajamas if she can help it.)

Well, now they have to talk about buying versus renting. Lucy's nerves build in her stomach, causing it to churn anxiously. Buying? Together? That's a big step! And then what if they end up moving back to San Francisco? Can Wyatt afford two mortgages? Can she help him with the house in addition to a townhouse? Can _she_ afford that?

Wyatt and Lucy huddle in the corner of the kitchen while Darcy watches them curiously. She's straining her neck in the hopes of overhearing them and Lucy can't help but grin slightly.

"What do you think, Professor?" Wyatt asks.

"What if you don't find a renter for your house?" She asks. "Can you afford two mortgages?"

"I have good credit and a fair amount of savings," he tells her with a grin that borders on cocky. "Plus, my salary's nothing to scoff at. I can swing it. If _you_ want to. Buying would be cheaper than renting that last place. Plus, we won't have to worry about subletting if we end up back in San Francisco before our lease is up."

She files his words away under the "pros" list in her head. "Valid points. Darcy did say they're in a rush to get rid of it and she's _brilliant_ at what she does. Splitting it with two incomes might actually make it cheaper than the rent I pay for my supply closet."

He chuckles and nods. "True."

"Besides, we'll never know if we don't try and this feels like something I might regret if we pass on it," she states apprehensively. She takes one last glance around and feels a tug at her heart that puts a soft smile on her face. "And I do really love it."

"I'm game if you are," Wyatt says as he raises his eyebrows at her with an unspoken question.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Lucy says thoughtfully as she takes in and releases a nervous breath. "Okay, okay, _yes_. Let's try."

Wyatt tosses her an excited grin as his hand lands on her back and he leads her over to Darcy. What follows is a visit to Darcy's office, where they look over a dizzying amount of paperwork and contact the real estate company who plans to list the townhome. Because their agent knows they're in a bind and she's just that good, they have an offer ready and made by the end of the day. Darcy found a bank willing to pre-approve them on a Saturday and helped them gather all the documentation they needed for said pre-approval.

They won't hear back about their offer until Monday, as the couple that owns it has asked for the rest of the weekend to consider it, but the wheels are in motion. Wyatt leaves Darcy his fax number at Mason Industries on their way out for when he's back in Los Angeles next week and then they're leaving to let Darcy work her magic in private.

"What did we just do?" Lucy asks once the car doors are closed.

"We just put an offer on a property," Wyatt tells her with wide eyes a slow blink. "A _low_ offer at that."

"That happened..._very fast_," she replies with a furrowed brow. "Is that normal?"

Wyatt shakes his head. "No, that was all your friend, Darcy. She's..._scrappy_. Calling her was a genius move, Luce."

"She was a godsend when I was apartment hunting from San Francisco," Lucy says with a nod. "I'm very glad she accosted me and Amy at our favorite coffee shop."

Wyatt laughs. "She overheard you talking about apartment hunting, I'm guessing?"

Lucy nods with a nostalgic smirk. "Sat right down in between us and shoved her card in our hands and then proceeded to pitch us on why apartment hunting requires a realtor. It was impressive. I really felt like I had no choice but to use her for her moxie alone."

Wyatt grins and shakes his head. He looks like he expected nothing less from Darcy. "We should eat," Wyatt says as he starts the car. "You up for eating out?"

"Please, I'm starving and I don't want to do dishes after running around Los Angeles for most of the day," she says with a tired sigh. "You choose."

They've just parked outside of a restaurant when Lucy's phone begins to blare. She glances down at the screen in surprise.

"What?" Wyatt asks.

"It's Darcy."

"Already? That can't be good."

She squares her shoulders and clears her throat before she answers. The best way to get rid of nerves is to pretend you're confident, she's learned. "Darcy, hey."

"Hey," she says in an ambiguously even tone. "I told you these people were in a hurry."

"Wait, you've heard back already?" Lucy asks in a voice that's much louder than she anticipated.

"I have."

Lucy's eyes find Wyatt's. He's wincing through a grimace. That was fast. Too fast.

"And?"

"Well, the rest of the paperwork will have to wait till Monday after I get the place thoroughly inspected. It's an older townhome and I am not having my favorite client move into a place with termites or asbestos or something. The preapproval is good but I'm not having you sign mortgage paperwork unless we know you're making a truly sound investment. Plus I might be able to use it to haggle their counter offer down a bit—"

Wait, _what?_

"Darcy, rewind. I'm a little lost. What do you mean inspection? Counteroffer? What did they say?"

"Oh! Oh gosh! Sorry! They made a counter offer but it's a really reasonable one. I mean shockingly lower than I expected! Assuming things go well with the inspection, the townhouse is all yours," Darcy says brightly. "Congrats! You're practically a homeowner."

"Oh my god! Seriously?"

"Seriously," Darcy replies. "Are you happy?"

"Darce! I'm ecstatic!" She cries as she angles herself toward Wyatt with a smile that's already hurting her cheeks. "We really got it?"

"You did. I'm trying to sweet talk my way into expediting the inspection as we speak." Lucy can hear keys clicking in the background. "There's one inspector who's always been sweet on me. I may not be into men, but that doesn't mean I can't flirt what I want out of one. I've gotta go, but you guys be sure to celebrate, okay?"

"I think we can handle that," Lucy says before they say their goodbyes and disconnect the call.

Wyatt's smiling just as big as she is but he's shaking his head in disbelief. "You've gotta be shitting me. They accepted?"

"They countered! But Darcy says it's a really reasonable counter. She's trying to arrange for an inspection to see if she can haggle it back down a little," Lucy tells him before she brings her hands to her cheeks to massage the sore muscles. "I'm smiling too much! My cheeks hurt!"

"So, we...we just _bought_ a home? _Together_?" Wyatt asks her as he leans across the middle console to be face to face with her.

"We did! I mean final paperwork and all of that, but...we did!" She grabs Wyatt's face, with a hand cradling each cheek, and pulls him in for a celebratory kiss. His arms go around her and crush her against him, bringing her to sit on top of the console.

When he pulls back they're both breathing heavily and smiling brighter than they've ever smiled before.

"We need champagne or—or something!" Wyatt declares. "Come on." He gestures to the restaurant he chose. It's deceptively casual. One of those places where the food is high quality and customers are rich, but no one dresses or acts like it.

They go inside and wait to be seated, grinning at each other like idiots the entire time. It's all coming together by some insane stroke of luck — or fate, or God, or whatever. It's completely atypical of them individually, but together— Together they seem to make their own luck.

They're seated in a cozy corner booth so Lucy wastes no time snuggling up to Wyatt's side. They share a menu, even though they have two. Lucy forces Wyatt to order the cheapest champagne on the menu. They're buying a townhouse. Now is not the time to get crazy. The champagne is brought and poured and they're meals are ordered. Finally, the waitress is gone for a while and they're alone again.

Wyatt raises his glass to her and waits for her to join him before he speaks.

"To milestones," he says with a wink. "I hope this is the first of many."

She blushes and clinks her glass against his. "To milestones and firsts."

They both take a sip. Wyatt leans back into the booth with a relieved sigh. "Well, that took a load off. I have to admit."

He's completely relaxed against the booth and Lucy eagerly mimics him, leaning into his side and wrapping her arms around his middle. It will still take a while for closing to be complete on the townhouse. From what Lucy understood during their time in Darcy's office, four weeks is the minimum but Wyatt isn't even due in town for another week. They can share her apartment for three weeks. Plus that gives her plenty of time to assess what they need and find affordable movers. Really, it's the perfect amount of time for their transition.

She tries to stay present in the moment but her mind starts cataloguing his furniture and hers. She's going room by room and so far not much will have to go in storage. She chuckles to herself when she gets to their bedrooms. Finally, she can fix something that has always annoyed her.

"What?" He asks curiously.

"When we move into the townhouse we're using my nightstands," she tells him with a teasing smirk. "My _two_ nightstands. I'm tired of not having one at your place. Reaching over you for my phone is _not_ ideal."

He flashes her a crooked smile and nods with a thoughtful expression. "Fine, but we use my mattress."

"You've got yourself a deal. Your mattress is so much better than mine," Lucy agrees.

They continue to fantasize about what furniture will go where and how they'll fill their new shared space. The waitress bringing their food doesn't even stop them. They're on such a high from a successful day that no one else exists. That's exactly why Lucy should have seen it coming.

For every high there is a low.

And, tonight, that low's name is Carol Preston.

They finish dessert and mange to get halfway through their coffee before it all goes to shit. Lucy has just snuggled back into Wyatt when a figure stops at their table. Lucy assumes it's their waitress coming to check on them again and turns to tell her they're fine, but freezes mid-sentence.

It is definitely not their waitress. Wyatt tenses next to her. He recognizes Carol Preston as easily as Lucy. So, it's not a nightmare then. This is real life.

"So," Carol says as she arches a brow at Wyatt. "This is the boyfriend you haven't told me about?"

Lucy straightens and feels all the blood drain from her face. She goes absolutely _cold _as the reality of her situation slowly clicks. "Mom! What are you doing here?"

"Nevermind what I'm doing here," Carols says, quickly dismissing why she happens to be seven hours away from Stanford and San Francisco. "What are _you_ doing here with _him_?"

Wyatt flinches at the poison in her tone and Lucy feels his mood fall as surely as if it were her own. But she doesn't feel anger radiating off of him. She feels insecurity and doubt. No. _Hell no._ Carol may have wounded Lucy with crippling self doubt but she _will not_ inflict that on Wyatt. Not after everything he's survived to end up in this very booth with her.

"_He_ has a name and it's Wyatt Logan," Lucy says proudly. "And, I'm not in high school, mother. I don't have to tell you who I date and I certainly don't need your approval."

"You could have so much more than _him_ or UCLA. Why won't you just take it? I'm offering it to you on a silver platter, Lucy. I do not understand why you insist on insulting me this way," Carol says with soft imploring eyes, as if she truly is only concerned with Lucy's best interests.

As if she's genuinely wounded by Lucy wanting to make her own way. Lucy flinches at the hurt in her mother's stare, but tries to push through her doubts.

"This," Lucy says as she gestures around the restaurant. "Is not about you. It's about _me_. For once in my life, my choices are about _me_. I'm not sure why _you_ can't _understand_ that."

Carol chuckles dryly and shakes her head at Lucy with a parental glance. "Well, that's just wonderful, Lucy. How truly selfish of you to not consider my needs after I spent my life dedicated to your education. I have invested everything I have in you and this is how you repay me?"

There's a tug in her chest. A guilty tug. Memories of her mother in good times flip through her mind and needle at her brain. Memories of the family they once had and of the father who loved and encouraged her — The father who loved her mother so completely. Is shutting out her mother what her father would have wanted? He's not here anymore. Does it matter?

"How do you suppose it makes me feel to hear you so firmly state that you no longer need me? I'm your mother, Lucy. You should always need me. How can you shut me out like this?" Carol asks as her watering eyes meet Lucy's.

Her breathing quickens and she feels tears building. Does her mother know what she's been thinking? Can Carol Preston read her guilt that clearly? What the fuck is she supposed to say to that? She doesn't mean to hurt her mother but she can't constantly cave to someone else's whims...

Her words and wits escape her and she can't manage to form a complete sentence. "I—I...mom, that's not what I—I don't mean—I would never want to…**.**"

Wyatt's hand moves across her back in a soothing gesture. It's a simple act of comfort but it has more effect than he intends. It reminds her of how they all ended up here in the first place. It alerts her to the angry wrinkles in her mother's grief stricken facade. The rips along the surface that reveal the intentions underneath. She loves her mother, but she _cannot_ trust her. Not anymore.

"I would be happy to include you in my life, mom, but not if you plan to control it," Lucy tells her softly but insistently, finally finding her words.

"Control it?" She sounds convincingly offended and then softens into concerned. "Sweetheart, how have I controlled you? You love history and teaching, all on your own, and you fell in love with Jonas on your own too. I couldn't have forced you into those things. Those were _your_ choices."

"I never loved Jonas, mom. You made me think I did. You talked _at me_ until I no longer questioned you," Lucy accuses, as her anger resurfaces. "And then later when I thought he was cheating and wanted to get out, you said 'don't be silly, Lucy', 'you're imagining things, Lucy', 'be sensible, Lucy.' Jonas wasn't the only one trying to make me think I was crazy. You were too, and all to keep me in an unhealthy relationship. So, if you want to talk about being hurt and insulted then let's talk about _that_."

"I did no such thing!" Carol exclaims.

Lucy nods, grim but accepting. She's disappointed but not surprised. "Right, well, as long as you deny it then we have nothing to talk about. If you can't admit to being _wrong_ then nothing has even the most remote possibility of changing."

"Maybe not now, but if you come back to Stanford—"

"I am _never_ going back to Stanford," Lucy says through gritted teeth. "I have told you that and told you that. I am on my own path now, mom, and I don't want another. I choose where I work and who I work for, and I'm not working for _you_ ever again." She huffs and turns to Wyatt with a nod toward the door. "We should go."

He nods and motions for their waitress to bring the check. Lucy realizes the entire restaurant has been watching them. The waitress must have sensed this coming because she immediately appears with the folio for the check. Wyatt sticks his card inside and hands it back while Lucy avoids her mother's seething glare to look for a tip.

"You're never coming back to Stanford?" Carol asks skeptically.

"Never," Lucy repeats as she throws down tip on the table. "I'm doing just fine without it."

"Is this because of _him_?" Carol asks as she points rudely at Wyatt.

Wyatt deliberately ignores Carol as he accepts his card back from the waitress and pockets it. The muscles in his jaw are ticking, tensing and grinding. He's _pissed_. She's amazed that he hasn't thrown his hat into the ring. But perhaps he's trying to learn from the mistakes he made with Jonas. His actions, or lack thereof, remind her why she loves him and of how the people you love _should_ make your life better.

Wyatt does.

Her mother _doesn't_.

"No," Lucy replies with a glare of her own. "I don't define my life by what other people think of me anymore. Not even for the man I _love_."

"The man you—you can't be serious!" Carol yells.

"As a heart attack," Lucy replies calmly as she stands to be face to face with her mother. "I love Wyatt. I didn't love Jonas and _never_ will. I don't want your Preston legacy and _never_ have. I'm _done_ with Stanford."

Her mother goes eerily silent, following Lucy's every movement with her eyes. Wyatt follows her out of the booth and ushers her to the door with his protective hand on the small of Lucy's back.

Just as they reach the door, Lucy hears her mother calling after them.

"We'll see about that."

Lucy rolls her eyes and spins on her heel. She did this last time and Lucy let it eat at her. She cried over it. She won't do that again. _No more_. Sadness at never having her mother's approval suddenly fades and is replaced with rage. Her life is exactly as it should be and it is not Lucy's fault that Carol cannot see that. Her dreams and ambitions are enough as long as they make her happy. Her accomplishments are _enough_ as long as they mean something to her. Her mother may never respect her but plenty of other people do. People who actually care about _her._ People like Wyatt.

It's only been a few months with Wyatt, and already he's taught her to believe that _she_ is _enough,_ just as she is.

"No, you're not going to do that anymore, mom," Lucy tells her as she feels furious fire flare through her veins. "You're not going to throw out some cryptic bullshit threat and make feel like I have no say in my life. _I have a say. _Goddammit. I have the _only_ say. You can accept that — _accept me_ — or you can walk away. Those are your choices. Just like it's _my _choice to let you back in my life, and that won't happen unless you can find it in yourself to be proud of the person I _am_ instead of the person you _wish_ I was. Until you can do that, _we're done_."

"You don't mean that." Carol's eyes look frightened and her brow is furrowed. "I'm your mother."

"Coulda fooled me," Lucy sneers while she turns her back on Carol and storms to the door. She reaches Wyatt. His proud gaze is glued to her as she looks over her shoulder at her mother. This time it's _Lucy_ who gets the last word. "You want to be my mother? Then _act like it_."

Wyatt gifts her with a half of a smirk and motions for Lucy to lead the way out of the restaurant. Before Lucy steps out into the night she hears Wyatt addressing Carol for the first time.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he declares over the other restaurant patrons. Lucy can tell he's purposefully thickened his Texas twang. "Safe travels back to San Francisco."

Lucy nearly laughs at his patronizing tone but manages to keep it to herself. She grabs his hand and tugs him outside. "Come on, Cowboy. Let's go."

She feels his lips against her ear as they walk down the sidewalk to his car and his arm snakes around her waist to pull her close. When he speaks, he sounds incredibly pleased.

"That was sexy as hell, and I'd very much like to make out with you right now, Professor."

She laughs loudly and shakes her head at him. "Shameless. You are _shameless_."

"You just stood up to your _mother_. The person you once told me you were afraid you would give in to no matter what. Remember that? Well, you saw her. You talked to her. And guess what? You stood your fucking ground, Preston. _You_ did that," he says as his arms tightens around her and he drops a kiss to her cheek. "You didn't run away. You didn't weaken. She showed up when you least expected her and it didn't throw you. _You owned that moment_, Luce. In a random restaurant in Los Angeles in front of who knows how many strangers, too." He beams at her and pulls her in for a quick chaste kiss. "You, Lucy Preston, are a bad ass."

Was she really? She didn't think of it that way. "I couldn't let her stand there and insult everything I love about my life. It's _my _life and I'm proud of it! I wasn't trying to be a...bad ass."

"Bad asses _never_ plan on being bad asses. They just _are_," Wyatt counters. "_You_ just _are_. That's all there is to it."

She expects to crash at some point. She _expects_ to be sad about what's just happened with her mother. She waits through the car ride with Wyatt, she waits through getting out of the car and going up to her apartment, she _waits_ while she puts the kettle on the stove for tea, but the sadness _never_ comes.

She feels..._satisfied_. Justified. _Confident_.

She's spent more than a year terrified of running into her mother. She went to extremes to avoid San Francisco and stay in her safe city borders, and in the end that tactic didn't work. She stuck to her borders but her mother did not. It doesn't matter whether she works in Los Angeles or San Francisco. The potential to be face to face with her mother is always there. They are a part of the same professional circles.

She chose not to see the reality of that before. She chose to hide in her delusion that she could avoid her mother for the rest of her life. Well, she's not hiding any more. If her mother wants to confront Lucy choices then so be it. Lucy is _confident _in who she is and who she wants to be. No one and nothing can change that now. She's learned too much about her own strength to let that happen.

And if the risk of running into her mother is _always_ there then it doesn't matter what city she lives in, does it? San Francisco, Los Angeles — her past can find her in any city.

So why not live in the city that's always had her heart (even before the revelation of Wyatt Logan)? If she's strong enough to confront her past head on then she can finally _go home_. The water starts to boil. Lucy turns it off and forgets her tea.

She rushes into the living room and finds Wyatt flipping channels on her television. She stops in front of the TV set and catches his eye.

"I'm gonna take the position at S.F.S.U."

It's a declaration. Not a question. She's not asking for his approval. She's not questioning how it will work. Not this time. She wants it. She wants it and she's going to take it.

Wyatt's smile spreads gradually until it overtakes his face. He nods and then picks up her phone from the coffee table. He holds it out to her expectantly, all while never letting his encouraging smile falter.

"Guess you'd better call Sarah then," he replies. "Your week is up tonight, if I remember correctly."

There's not a single doubt or worry reflecting in his eyes. Just faith. In her. In them. In the future. It's so unwavering that she can't help but feel it too. They're entire relationship has been a bit insane, but it's always been right.

And so is this decision. She's felt it in her bones from the minute she saw their library. S.F.S.U. Is where she _belongs_.

She takes her phone from him and dials Sarah's number. She has no fears and no doubts and she knows she'll have no regrets. She's finishing what she originally set out to do a year ago.

She's staking claim to her path.

She's writing her own damn story.

She spends Sunday intermittently relaxing and exchanging email attachments with Sarah, with minimal distractions from Wyatt. Though, they spend a good portion of what was supposed to be an afternoon nap _way more active_ than she intended. The day passes quickly. Why do weekends always seem to go by faster than work weeks? She hates it.

Monday is a big day. They spend the morning filling out paperwork for the bank and for Darcy and then Wyatt heads back to San Francisco. Dave took a flight back the day before. During their brief goodbye on Sunday, Dave refused to tell her anything about what happened with him and Amy. He merely grinned, shrugged, and told her to ask her sister.

She intends to.

But first she says goodbye to Wyatt and heads to her office for lunch with her boss. He has news and so does she. Tucked safely in her tote is a letter of resignation that informs him she'll only be staying at UCLA for the fall semester. She's already signed and faxed back the paperwork for S.F.S.U. The deal is done.

Tenure is hers at a school that truly feels like home as soon as January rolls around. She's over the moon, but still nervous about telling Brad.

Hopefully, he'll be professional and polite, even if he's not thrilled.

They order food to be delivered and once it arrives they meet in his office. She wants to speak first but, typical Brad, he talks over her.

"So, the reason I wanted to have this meeting is because my idea we discussed on Friday specifically involves you."

"Me?" Lucy asks in confusion.

He nods. "Stanford has approached us about partnering for a special project. It should serve to award us with further research grants and gain our faculty access to Stanford's resources. I spent the weekend hashing out the details with Carol Preston. The idea is that you would visit Stanford for one class a week. Carol is wanting to teach a class on women throughout history and she thought you would be perfect for it. Considering the book you were working on this summer, I'm inclined to agree."

Lucy's eyebrows rise along with her rage. He intends to loan her out to Carol Preston as if she's some sort of historical relic to be put on display? Is she hearing this correctly? She _can't_ be hearing this correctly.

He claps and beams eagerly at her. "So, what do you say? Do you think you and your mother can sort out whatever little fight you had in time for the spring semester? That's when I'm hoping we can roll this out. I want to give you two plenty of time to build the course."

Silence swallows them as Lucy blinks at him in shock. Little fight? _Little fight_? Oh god, is she ever jumping ship at just the right time! At least this explains why her mother was in Los Angeles.

"Oh, wow, Brad," Lucy says as she pastes on a false smile. "That really sounds like..._something_. But unfortunately, I won't be here for spring semester."

"What? Of course you will be," Brad says in confusion.

Lucy reaches into her tote and pulls out the plain white envelope. She sets it down in front of him and shakes her head. "No, actually, I won't. I just accepted a tenured position at San Francisco State for the spring. I'll be leaving once this semester ends."

The flabbergasted look on his face is gratifying. He never expected her to leave. He thought she needed UCLA. She can see it now so clearly. She's a rabbit and tenure is a carrot. He intends to hold that carrot out in front of her for the foreseeable future, but he never intends to let her have it. He puts on a convincing front, but he is _exactly_ like her mother. Controlling and manipulative.

She feels vindicated in her choice to leave, now more than ever.

"_What?_" He asks loudly. "You—you can't—you're _leaving_?"

"Sorry to ruin your ingenious plan, Brad, but yes," Lucy tells him at a patronizingly slow pace. "I'm leaving. S.F.S.U. Has offered me tenure at my time of appointment and I've accepted. It's all in that letter. Thank you so much for allowing me to teach your students. I have enjoyed it immensely. I will definitely be taking with me everything I've learned during my time here and putting it to good use."

"What am I going to do now?" He asks her, honestly looking for an answer.

"You're department chair," she answers brightly. "I'm sure you'll figure it out." She closes her take away container of salad and then stands from her chair. "Well, I hate to cut this short but I have an appointment I can't miss. Thank you so much for lunch, Brad."

He nods mutely but doesn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it."

She grins triumphantly as she leaves his office and then pulls out her phone. She hits the contact info for her sister and waits.

"Hey, sis," Amy answers, sounding much more chipper than usual.

"Hey, Ames, pick up a salad and meet me in my office," Lucy demands. "I have news _and_ questions I'm dying to ask you. Dave gave me nothing before he left."

"News?" Amy asks, ignoring Lucy's comments about Dave. "What kind of news?"

"The bittersweet kind," Lucy tells her honestly. "I don't want to tell you over the phone."

"Curious," Amy says thoughtfully. "Alright, I'm coming. I'll be at your office in twenty."

She's not worried about Amy's reaction. She knows her baby sister will be proud and happy. Plus, they have plenty of time together before she leaves. She's about to have a much better lunch with her sister than she would ever have had with her boss.

She feels lighter and more carefree than she has in years. All of her struggles, all of her failures...they're coming together to lead her to the place she's meant to be and the people she's meant to know. Everything feels like it fits. It feels _right_.

She has the career she wants, all the family she can stand, and the love she needs. Everything else (like where she and Wyatt live or where their relationship is headed) will fall into place.

A few months ago she never would have dreamed of any of this. It's exactly what she wants but she never expected to have _any of it_.

Finding what you want most in unexpected places seems to be a trend for her. It's how she and Wyatt found their soon to be home and it's how she found her dream job. Hell, it's how she found _Wyatt_.

If asked, that's absolutely how she would define "accidentally on purpose".

Finding the thing you want most where and when you least expect it and then having the courage to lean into it.

You find it accidentally, but you _keep it_ on purpose.

This life she stumbled into with Wyatt is one she's determined to keep.

_On purpose._

Not a thing _accidental_ about it.


	18. Epilogue

**A/N: **So, this is it. The last post on this story and it's almost two months after I randomly tweeted the idea. I never imagined this fic would see as many interactions as it has. You guys have been AMAZING with your support on FFN, Ao3, and Twitter! Thank you!

Thank you in particular to sketchingwitch (Fiona) and those of you who took the time to review each and every chapter! Also to anyone who left a review/comment: each and every one of them made my day! THANK YOU.

I hope this epilogue satisfies! You guys deserve an ending you love!

Happy reading!

Angellwings

PS - see the end for a tease about what might be coming in the future! ;)

* * *

Epilogue: Great Ones

* * *

"You just fell out of the sky.

The best things come when you don't even try.

Lighting in a bottle doesn't happen twice.

The kind of gospel that saves you just in time.

The myth of me and you is fiction turned to truth.

Most loves don't make it through,

But the great ones do.

But the great ones, the great ones,

Yeah, the great ones do.

But the great ones, the great ones do.

It's like every single star aligning.

We traded silver for gold lining.

You're the perfect storm,

So let it pour down on me.

If they tell the story in a hundred years,

No one would believe that you and me were really here.

Just a memory of what the real thing can be."

-"Great Ones" by Maren Morris

* * *

A rough six months later, and here they are moving everything back into Wyatt's newly renovated house. Three months spent living together in a townhouse in L.A. followed by three months alternating weekends between said townhouse and Wyatt's half renovated Victorian left them tired and their savings accounts essentially depleted. But they _did it_. They made it through and now they'll once again be in the same place at the same time every single day.

Wyatt's job is back in San Francisco. A lovely young couple will be moving into their townhouse next week and paying a hefty (but fair) amount of rent each month. There were moments during the first month they lived apart where Lucy doubted her decision to leave U.C.L.A. But Wyatt never did.

"Are you having fun?" He would ask her during every video chat.

Her answer was always yes. Even when she has trying students her job is still fun. She likes the people more, she likes the city more, she likes the freedom San Francisco State willingly gives her more. It's everything she ever imagined teaching would be.

"Then accepting Sarah's offer could never be a mistake. The distance won't last forever. Just until March," he would remind her.

He was right, of course.

It wasn't forever and moving back was absolutely the right call.

And now that it's finally _March,_ everything is wonderful again.

She sighs in relief as she and Wyatt set the last boxes down in the office. Wyatt's office has been renovated to meet her needs. He surprised her with it. She thought they were simply repainting the wood paneling and re-carpeting the floors. No, turns out, Wyatt got Amy's help and raided her Pinterest.

The room now had built in shelves and hardwood floors. The walls were painted a beautiful shade of light blue (to match Wyatt's eyes, unbeknownst to him) and the cushion on the window seat has been reupholstered in blue gingham (the same shade as the walls, again to match his eyes). She cried when he opened the door.

She couldn't help herself because It's _perfect_. Everything she could ever want and so much more.

She glances around the room and shakes her head at him, still in disbelief.

"You did all of this right under my nose," she says with a chuckle as she crosses the room and wraps her arms around him. "How dare you."

"Yes, how dare I give you the workspace you've always dreamed of," He says with a playful roll of his eyes and a grin. "I told you I was giving this office to you and I meant it. It's yours."

"Well, thank you," she says before she softly kisses his lips. "I love it."

"You're welcome, it's the least I could do after you helped me with my dad a few months back," he tells her with a grateful glance.

She shakes her head and gives him a tired but fond smile. "How many times do I have to say this: I didn't do anything, Wyatt. That was all you. I just cheered you on. Besides, that's what I'm here for. You don't need to thank me for it. I love you. I'm _supposed_ to be your moral support. Especially, when things are tough."

"But without you I doubt I would have found the nerve to stand my ground. Maybe I don't _have_ to thank you, but I want to. I love you too and I want you to know you're appreciated. Get used to it, ma'am," he replies with teasing narrowed eyes and a warm grin.

She feigns shock and gasps dramatically. "Wait, this can't be right. I'm in a relationship where I'm appreciated? You're not supposed to do that, you know. You're supposed to take me for granted and forget I exist unless you need something. Isn't that how relationships work?"

"God, you're a dork, Preston," Wyatt replies with a laugh. "But a cute one."

"Says the man who fanboyed super hard when he found Daytona 500 tickets in his Valentines Card," she retorts, sticking her tongue out at him childishly. "Takes one to know one, Logan."

"You don't understand, the Daytona 500 is the _Superbowl_ of NASCAR. You had to pull some serious strings to get those tickets, you couldn't have bought them until September and I know that it's hard to get them unless you buy them when they go on sale in June—"

She lets out a rolling laugh as he starts to ramble with excited eyes and cuts him off with an insistent kiss. He's right. She did have to pull some strings. She still owed a former classmate for that. It's going to cost her a trip to Wake Forest University for an exclusive book signing and guest lecture over her spring break. But the memory of the actual event made it all worth it. Wyatt looked like a little boy on Christmas that entire trip.

She pulls away from him with a wink and a grin. "Didn't mean to get you all riled up again, soldier. We should get back out to the living room. Our guests are doing all the work at this point."

He shrugs and holds her tighter against his chest. "We're paying them in pizza, aren't we? They can handle it on their own for a few minutes," he declares, refusing to release her. "After all, you haven't even gotten to sit at your new desk yet. At least take some time to enjoy that. Do you know how long it took me to find that antique? So. Many. Antique Stores. I never want to see one again. Side note, do people actually buy antique spinning wheels? Every store had one and I'd like to know why."

She snickers at him and forces her way out of his hold. "Fine, fine. I get the picture."

Her hand runs along the edge of the vintage white vanity turned desk as she walks around it. Wyatt did a wonderful job picking it out for her. The paint is chipped in that perfectly aged way and there are bow details carved into the wood along with ornate fixtures on the drawers. It has character and history. She doesn't know it's story but she can tell by merely looking at it that it has one.

The chair is not vintage, but it's white and richly cushioned. It doesn't match exactly but it coordinates well.

"Wyatt," Lucy says in an astonished whisper. "It's gorgeous."

His eyes are following her and for the first time she notices his fingers twitching idly. One of his hands is fisting and unfisting and his thumb is attempting to pop each knuckle. It's a nervous habit she's only seen a handful of times before.

"Are you okay?" She asks with a furrowed brow as she sits down in her new office chair.

He swallows thickly and gives her a shaky smile. "Fine." He walks around the desk to stand behind her and then reaches for the middle drawer in front of her. "Let me show you this drawer. It sticks so it's a little tricky to open." He shakes it gently on his first tug. "You have to kinda jiggle it and then pull." After shaking it, the drawer slides open easily and as it does she hears him release a slow breath. "Like—Like that."

He removes his hand and leaves the drawer open in front of her. One glance at the contents of the drawer and she instantly understands why he's suddenly so anxious.

It's empty, save for one small robin's egg blue box with a white bow.

Breathing becomes difficult and her head feels very light. Water quickly gathers in her lashes and her hands cover her blushing cheeks.

"Oh my god, Wyatt." Her hands shake as she reaches for the box and unties the white ribbon. While she's opening the box he kneels next to her, and it's only when he starts to kneel that this scene becomes _real_.

He's actually doing this. He's—he's proposing.

She's known him for barely eight months and he's _proposing_.

They've talked about it, hypothetically. They've discussed whether he's still open to it after Jessica (Yes, especially with her) and they've discussed whether her experience with Jonas has made her wary of marriage (no, not when it comes to Wyatt), but she never imagined that he would actually go out and buy a ring so soon!

She dumps the black velvet ring box out of the blue gift box into the palm of her hand. Her fingers are trembling too violently to grab it.

(Damn it, hands. Get it together.)

Wyatt takes mercy on her and lifts the box from her palm. He clears his throat as he opens it.

Inside is the most beautiful diamond solitaire ring. Simple and iconic with a yellow gold band. A watery teeth baring smile overwhelms her as her tears of joy finally fall. Oh god, she wants that ring on her finger for the rest of her life. She doesn't give a damn if it's only been eight months. It hasn't felt like eight months. It's felt like a lifetime. She never wants to imagine her life without him in it and _clearly_ he feels the same.

"I've been trying to figure out what to say," Wyatt admits with a sheepish grin. "We both know I'm not the best at the whole talking thing. I'm better at _doing_ than talking. But the guy usually says something when he proposes, right? So—" he shakes himself and winces. "Can I start over?"

She nods with a soggy laugh. "I don't think you need to, but sure."

He meets her eyes and then breathes in and out deliberately. She watches as he steadies his nerves and then tries again.

"I love you, Lucy Preston, and I'm so damn proud of you sometimes I think I might actually burst," he says with a soft lopsided grin. "Most of the time I don't understand how this West Texas hick ended up here, with you, but it doesn't really matter how I got here, does it? It only matters that we found each other in the end. In South Carolina of all places." His laugh rumbles with his own tears as he takes her left hand and threads their fingers together. "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and I never once saw you coming. I saw you in that bar before you ever saw me but I thought there was absolutely no way you would talk to me. So, even when you were right in front of me, you still blindsided me." He squeezes her hand and takes another deep breath. "But once I was in, I knew. I just _knew_. You know, that day we went surfing?"

She sniffles to hold back her emotions and nods. How could she forget?

"Right then, right there, on day three of knowing you, I told myself I was going to marry you," he confesses. "I'm very close to proving myself right. It all depends on your answer to my next question."

He pauses and it's unbearable. She's too ecstatic. She needs him to ask _now_ or else she's going to say yes before he manages to form the damn question.

Her leg bounces with impatience and he chuckles softly before placing a hand on her thigh to stop her. "Gimme a minute, Professor. It's a big moment."

"How many minutes do you _need_? I'm barely restraining myself here," she tells him, biting her lip and blinking back tears.

He laughs and brings her left hand to his lips. "You're a handful, you know that?"

"That's not the question I want to hear, Wyatt Logan," she whines. "And _yes_, I do know that. Just like I know if you don't propose right now, I'm going to take that ring before you can get the question out. _Propose_, already."

"Bossy know it all," he mutters with a beaming smile. "_Please_ marry me? Marry me and boss me around for the rest of my life?"

"Yes!" Lucy exclaims as she launches herself out of the chair and into his arms. She giggles tearfully into a deep kiss as she wraps her arms around him. "Yes, I will marry you and boss you around for the rest of your life."

They're both kneeling behind the desk as she presents her left hand to him. He presses his forehead to hers as he slips the ring onto her finger. They stare at the ring for a lingering moment before she throws herself at him again. She holds him tightly and peppers the side of his face with little kisses.

"I love you so much," she tells him through her happy tears.

"I love you too," he replies. "Thank you for saying yes."

She chuckles and then arches back to meet his misty blue eyes. "Thank _you_ for asking. And I have some ideas about the ceremony."

He quirks a brow at her with a mirthful glance. "Already?"

She nods. "How do you think our friends will feel about a destination wedding at the end of July?"

His muted chuckle fills the air between them as he flashes her a blinding smile. "You want to get married at Myrtle Beach, don't you?"

She gives him her most charming smile and runs her hands through his hair. "Rehearsal dinner at the tiki bar? All the guys in Hawaiian shirts?"

"Whatever you want, Lucy," he says with an enamored grin. "But if you're making Rufus and Dave wear Hawaiian shirts then I get to be the one to pick them out."

"Deal!" She exclaims through a laugh. "This is going to be fun."

And she doesn't just mean the wedding.

No, she means her life with him. Their _future_. Whatever shape it takes, wherever it leads, she's certain that they'll have an enjoyable life together. She's not kidding herself about the reality of it. She knows there will be challenges, but neither of them are strangers to hard work. They'll be fine. No problem is too big for them as long as they face it together.

She once told Amy she wanted to find someone she could build a life with.

Well, she found him and she has no intention of ever letting him go.

* * *

**A/N: **I have plans to write a sequel to this story. Set between chapter 16 and this epilogue, BUT it would feature Amy & Dave as the main love story with Wyatt and Lucy in the background. I fully intend to subtly fill in their six months, from Lucy taking the job to them moving back into Wyatt's house, as a side story to Amy and Dave's journey.

I have had a handful of people ask about it. I'm very interested in writing it. I love both Amy and Dave and they're a couple I've never really explored so it would be wonderfully challenging. I hope some of you would be interested in reading it.

First though, I have plans for a handful of one shots. Most of them will be Lyatt. One or two may be Jessima because I'm going to miss them. (Maybe even a one shot Jessima prequel to AoP?) We'll see.

Anyway! Thank you so much for taking this path with me! Hopefully, you'll take it with me again!

Thank you!

Angellwings


End file.
